Playing with Fire
by sunneedee
Summary: Drarry SLASH. AU 6th year. After the DOM and a horrible summer where Vernon's treatment of him takes a turn for the worse, Harry is back and he worries his mentor and friends by hanging around with the wrong person. They don't know what Harry's been though or what's really going on with Draco, and anyway, Harry knows what he's doing, right? Well maybe not, but does he even care?
1. Introduction

_Drarry SLASH. AU 6th year. After the DOM and a horrible summer where Vernon's treatment of him takes a turn for the worse, Harry is back and he worries his mentor and friends by hanging around with the wrong person. They don't know what Harry's been though or what's really going on with Draco, and anyway, Harry knows what he's doing, right? Well maybe not, but does he even care? Rated M for a reason!_

_IMPORTANT NOTE - This started off as a Drarry version of New Alliances. I didn't look at it for about two years, then decided to write a dark!Harry fic. I used a lot of the stuff I had already started, because I wanted to get into the juicy plot, and all I did was make Harry gay (it's introduced slowly though, don't worry) and made the Dursleys hurt him far worse than in canon and New Alliances. It's mainly the start which is the same. The plot is going in a very different direction though. Dark!Harry (See, told you it turns out different!) and SLASH WARNING BEEP BEEP BEEP. Oh, and I should give a warning of attempted rape too. _

The story: As I wrote New Alliances, my first fic, I was getting into Drarry, and I found myself thinking of what if? situations as I wrote Dramione. I wrote that stuff down, and it was mostly scenes straight from New Alliances with a Drarry twist. Later, I wanted to write Dark!Harry. I used the notes I had written, but used a new plot. I've ended up with a half written fic which I really like, and to take out the stuff which was also used in New Alliances just wouldn't work. I could have decided not to post it, and I did just that for a long time, but in the end, because I don't share my fanfic with anyone in real life, it seemed a shame to let my hard work go to waste.

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	2. Chapter 1

_THE LAST TIME I'M GONNA WARN YA: _

_** MATURE CONTENT_

_** ATTEMPTED RAPE_

_** HOMOSEXUAL SEXY TIME_

_** NASTY STUFF _

_Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me (though I do take the credit for having translated the following quote on my own__J__ )_

Amicus enim est is qui est tamquam alter idem…alterum quaerit cuius animum ita cum suo misceat ut faciat Unum ex enim dulcius quam habere quicum audeas sic loqui ut tecum?

_Truly a friend is that person who is just like another self…_

_he seeks the other whose soul he might mix with his own to make one out of two. _

_What is truly sweeter _

_than to have the person with whom you dare to speak as with yourself?_

-Cicero, excerpt from _de Amicitia _(On Friendship)

Slumped at his desk, alone in his room in a house where he was more than not welcome, after weeks of summer with nothing but letters for company, Harry had never felt more alone.

In front of him, Dumbledore's letter swum before his eyes

_. … You are being guarded by an Order member at all times - do not seek them out, they are under cover….…I endeavour to keep you updated with Voldemort's actions as much as possible…_

And here, always in the last two paragraphs of Dumbledore's letter, was the part which Harry always dreaded to read yet had forced himself to read it again and again.

…_a family of four in Birmingham - tortured, killed -muggles, two muggle girls in Dorchester - raped, tortured, killed, a wizarding family of three in Edinburgh, all killed, probably tortured - the bodies are mutilated beyond recognition, a fifty-year-old muggle-born witch in Cardiff - tortured, killed, five teenage muggles in Carlisle - tortured and killed, the girls were raped…_

At first, when he had read the letter, he had been shocked. Afterwards he had felt a little grateful to Dumbledore, that he had finally included Harry in all of this information that the Order must also know.

But then, after the first few letters, when Harry began to think properly about the information he was receiving, rather than just being sickened, he had realised that this was news without being news at all. It told him nothing about what Voldemort might be planning next, what Dumbledore suspected was his next major move. This…information, it seemed to be the day-to-day entertainment schedule for the Death-Eaters rather than real information. It was, Harry thought dully, Dumbledore's way of letting Harry know why he must sacrifice his own happiness for the greater good.

"Boy!" came Aunt Petunia's screeching voice from downstairs. Harry, having been addressed thus for the last sixteen years of his life was in no doubt as to who she was summoning, but he didn't move an inch, but continued to stare blankly at Dumbledore's letter, wondering when the next one would arrive, if ever.

He didn't want to move, didn't want to go downstairs. He wasn't afraid, but he just couldn't take it anymore. Uncle Vernon was in a good mood today, so he didn't have much cause to worry, but still…

He heard Aunt Petunia's footsteps coming upstairs, followed by several sharp raps at the door.

"Boy! Come downstairs! Your uncle and I want to speak to you!"

Harry groaned into his folded arms. Petunia had been trying in vain to get Harry to carry out his usual chores, but so far he had simply ignored them, lost in the apathetic haze he lived in day to day. Clearly she had now appealed to Vernon and Harry knew he was in for it.

So far, Petunia had tried to separate her husband from her nephew. She may have disliked Harry strongly, but it was obvious she thought Vernon was taking things a step too far, if not for her dislike of getting blood on the carpet then for what the neighbours might say about it.

Harry pulled himself to his feet, clutching his side as he did so. It still hurt to move, and he was just thankful that the large mottled purple and yellow bruise was beneath his clothes where it could be hidden, rather than on his face.

"BOY!" came Uncle Vernon's characteristic bellow from downstairs, and Harry clenched his fists. Judging by their tones, he couldn't see them relenting this time and he was just thankful Vernon hadn't been drinking today at least. He ran his fingers through his uncombed hair as he made for the door. Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs and Harry felt a jolt of hatred towards Dumbledore.

Did the man ever listen to him? He'd _told _him the Dursleys would be worse if he confronted them about their treatment of Harry, and it had been Harry's business, not Dumbledore's to let them know his godfather was dead.

Now Harry was stuck for the summer in a home where he was now not only hated, but the supposed cause of every misfortune to befall the Dursleys. The blame for everything and anything negative fell on his shoulders, usually in the form of Vernon's fists.

When Uncle Vernon had lost his job at Grunnings, it had been Harry's fault. Why else would they fire him but for Harry spreading lies about being mistreated?

Vernon had started his drinking habit then, and from that moment Harry's life had become a downward slope.

At first it was a cuff or two when Harry was being slow when moving around the house- usually between the bathroom and his bedroom, because he didn't go anywhere else. Petunia had made it clear than the only food he was getting was what he would receive through the catflap in his door.

After a week or so, Harry received a light punch for taking too long in the toilet. Then he happened to wander downstairs while Petunia and Vernon had been arguing, and Vernon had slapped him, hard on the cheek and Harry had fallen into the door frame, dazed.

After that, Vernon had begun making room visits after a particularly fruitless day of job hunting - which was everyday, because no one would hire a man who carried such a thick stench of whisky around with him.

Harry glanced at himself in the mirror on the side of the wardrobe. He looked like death warmed up: pale, thin, with black marks under his eyes, which seemed duller than normal. Then was a fading bruise just under his hairline from last week.

THUD THUD THUD.

Harry jumped back as Vernon started hammering his fist on the door.

"Open up right this minute!"

Harry began to do so, hating himself as his hands shook. Vernon had spent the day relaxing at home, there was no reason he could think of for him to have gained a beating. When the door opened, he made himself stare dispassionately back at the short, stout man who glared back at him, moustache quivering with anger.

He would not show his fear. He hadn't fallen that far.

_I could have lived with Sirius._

"Get yourself downstairs in the kitchen!" he barked "Your Aunt and I want to get some things straight about how things happen in this house! Show some respect!"

Harry relaxed as Vernon turned and lumped his heft body back downstairs, seemingly satisfied with only a verbal warning, and he plodded after him wearily, stepping into the bright kitchen, wrinkling his nose as the stench of thick bleach assaulted his senses. Aunt Petunia appeared to be in the middle of cleaning as usual, but she had put aside her gloves and apron and was now glaring at Harry, probably in accusation of drawing Vernon into the situation, though how that could be his fault Harry didn't know. Through in the living room, Dudley was wedged into the leather recliner, clutching a large packet of crisps, his piggy eyes fixed on the television.

"We've had it!" Vernon snapped, and Harry's attention snapped back to his aunt and uncle abruptly. "You've done nothing but laze about since you got back from that freakish school, and we're not having it! Your aunt has told you repeatedly to help around the house, and you've had the cheek to ignore her!"

Harry stared dully back. He wasn't about to change his routine now. He refused to cater to the whims of these people, he wasn't doing them any harm by staying quiet in his room. He'd faced Voldemort, it would take more than a beating to reduce him to a quivering heap.

He was not weak.

"If you think this is how things are going to continue this summer, you've got another thing coming, boy! From now on, you'll do _everything_ that your aunt and I ask you to, is that clear?"

Harry mentally shook himself. What was wrong with him? He was getting a telling off, nothing more, yet inside he was restraining himself from turning tail and hiding somewhere. How many scoldings like this had he had before he'd started Hogwarts? Vernon hadn't been drinking, he was fine. This was_ nothing_! He really was getting weak.

"Fine then." Harry said, the first words he had spoken all summer, and turned to go.

"No!" Vernon bellowed, and Harry felt a meaty palm clamp down on his shoulder and wheel him back around "Don't you dare speak to me in that to-"

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Harry snapped, feeling something break inside of him at the unexpected contact. He felt quietly revolted at Vernon's touch, this small minded man who had never done a thing for another person in his life.

He didn't know why he'd said it. He'd thought he was safe, thought Vernon wouldn't hurt him if he hadn't been drinking, but he hadn't meant to say it. It was just Uncle Vernon's palm contracting tightly on his bruised shoulder - and where wasn't bruised on his body now? - when he hadn't expected it had woken something in him.

He wished it had stayed asleep.

"Is that how it is then?" Vernon said, his usually red skin turning an unpleasant purple shade "Is this the repayment I get for taking you in when your parents decided to burden us with your unnatural self?"

Harry stared at Vernon's right ear forcedly. He wouldn't back down, wouldn't crawl and whimper.

"Your whore mother should never let that freak touch her, never should have brought a freak like you into this world."

Petunia flinched as if she'd been slapped, and Harry's head jerked upwards to meet Vernon's eyes, a shard of bitter hatred pushing the words from his mouth.

"Take that back!" he said sharply, his fingers closing on his wand, which wasn't in his pocket but upstairs in his trunk. "_My mother wasn't a-"_

"SHE WAS NOTHING BETTER THAN A WHORE!" Vernon bellowed, then rocked back on his feet, a smug smile on his face.

Harry stared him in the eyes, his hateful beady eyes, stuck dumb by fury.

"Tell me boy, how did she make a living then? How did she pay to keep you? I've seen her documents, they all say she died unemployed, no record of work whatsoever. What do you say to that, eh?"

Harry had no reply. He didn't know what his mother had done for a living. She'd been in the Order, but apart from that, no one had ever told him what kind of career she'd lead.

"My mother wasn't a whore." he repeated stiffly

"And your father eh? A common criminal. I bet that Lord Voldything was nothing more than some kind of _drug dealer _or thief of your sort that your no-good father got mixed up with."

Harry knew the answer to this one. "My dad was an auror." he shot back "The wizard government hired him to fight criminals and he saved lives!"

CLAP.

Harry had no time to duck the slap, and went spinning backwards into the glassware on the kitchen counter behind him. His glasses flew off, and he tried to fling his arms out to catch the falling cups and mugs but the crashing of splintering glass resounded around the kitchen.

The television in the living room fell silent.

"Listen here, BOY!" Uncle Vernon thundered, making Harry's eardrums pop "I'm going to -"

"Shut UP!" Harry bellowed back, and then the hot rage that had been simmering deep inside him all week boiled over.

"Do you actually think you can _scare _me?" he shouted "You fat, pathetic bastard!"

The atmosphere changed abruptly into one that Harry would usually recognise as extremely dangerous, but he continued shouting at the fat blur that was Vernon anyway.

"That's right, don't try and deny it, you've never done anything worth _anything _in your sad life!"

"I am a regional manager at Grunnings you ungrateful whelp!" Vernon shouted suddenly "More than you or your disgusting parents ever-"

"My father saved lives!" Harry yelled "And you think selling _drills_ compares to that?"

Harry couldn't see what happened next. He only saw Uncle Vernon's blur grow bigger, and fear gripped his belly. Something white came from nowhere, and the next thing he knew his right ear was ringing and the side of his face felt like a hot iron had been pressed to it.

"Vernon - no - the neighbours!" Petunia whispered fearfully, and for once, Vernon paused in whatever he'd been about to do next.

"Get to your room." Came the gruff order, and Harry was pushed roughly into the hallway.

Harry knew his bedroom so well that it took him no time at all to find his spare glasses in a box under the bed.

They were far too small, a remnant of his childhood, and they still were held together by cellotape, but they would do for now. The right lens had a crack in in, he realised as he forced them on his face with a gasp of pain. Whatever Vernon had done, he realised, it was going to hurt to wear his glasses from now on. He moved shakily over to the mirror.

The side of his face was gushing with blood, and for a moment Harry felt faint, before he remembered the tendency of head wounds to bleed excessively.

_It's not that bad,_ he told himself.

It was going to bruise something nasty though, he realised as he used an old t-shirt to stop the bleeding. _He must have got me with the teapot. _

He laughed bitterly. He could see the headlines now: _POTTER POTTED BY TEAPOT!_

_I've got to get out of here, _he thought soberly as he sat back down on his bed. If he scarred, how would he hide it from Hermione and Ron? Never mind them, what would the Daily Prophet have to say about it all? Bruises would fade - if he could just get Vernon to leave him alone for the last few weeks before school - but scars needed magic to be erased.

Harry ran through his options.

He could stay at Privet Drive and wait until he got to Kings Cross to perform a glamour charm. That way no one would find out he'd used underage magic, the ministry would assume it was some other of age witch or wizard at the train station. Since all this had first started, he'd been researching Glamour Charms. They were supposed to be notoriously tricky to hold, but he knew the theory and he'd practised it wandlessly every day and he was sure he could manage it. He had to.

The way it worked was to have an image in his mind of what he wanted to look like as he cast the spell. It had to be perfect though, so Harry had perused his old Daily Prophets until he'd found a clear enough photograph of his face. In it, he looked bewildered and the beginnings of embarrassment were showing, but it was the face structure, not the expression that he needed. Once the glamour was cast onto his face, it would stay on like a mask until he went to sleep or lost consciousness, and best of all it wouldn't be like a rigid muggle mask, but it would copy his expressions. If he smiled, his glamour would do the same, if he cried, the glamour would allow for that too.

It was Hermione that he had to thank for his discovery of the charm, she'd sent him a book of advanced spells that aurors used, thinking that it would spur him into studying more if she got him a book he'd actually have some interest in.

_I was going to send you an interesting, but rather vulgar book on joke potions - it's the kind of thing Fred and George would read - full of instructions for potions that cause general mischief like explosions and hair loss. I'd hoped it would help you to get your grades up in Potions. Ron was quite taken with the one that makes people's ears fall off, but in the end I thought you'd never put into practice. At least, not for any good purpose…_

She was right; he'd have read it once and then relegated it to the bottom of his trunk with all his other cast-offs, but not only was the auror book interesting, but he could see himself learning a lot of the curses and hexes to use against Bellatrix next time they met.

He meant to avenge Sirius, one day.

The Glamour Charm was in the one chapter of the book which he'd only skimmed through - concealment and disguise. He had his invisibility cloak already, so he hadn't seen any pressing need to learn anything in the chapter at first.

The first time Vernon hit him in the face he'd flicked through the pages in desperation though. What if someone from the Order came to visit? What if Dumbledore dropped by? What if he got a last minute request from Ron to join him at the Burrow? He didn't want them to see him like this…

None of those things came to pass though, but by time he realised that he was going to spend the rest of his summer alone in this hell, he'd memorised the technique of the Glamour Spell. The Charm was right at the end of the chapter, deemed of not much use by the author for the simple fact that you couldn't use the spell to look like another person. It could be used for small modifications to your own face only - to hide small injuries, scars or birthmarks, or if it was going to be seen only from a distance you could get away with changing your features slightly, for instance lengthening your nose, bringing your eyes slightly closer together and such.

It was a hard charm to cast, which was why witches generally didn't use it to hide things like acne and warts, and though Charms wasn't Harry's strongest class he was sure he could manage it.

Nevertheless, Glamour Charm or not, Harry wasn't sure it would hide gushing blood and vivid cuts. His situation was getting worse, if Vernon continued on this streak of violence he wouldn't be able to hide his injuries when he went back to school.

He had another plan he'd given thought to, but he wasn't sure it was a good idea.

He could leave Privet Drive and spend the rest of his summer staying somewhere else. The Leaky Cauldron was by far the most attractive place, though he'd considered Hogsmeade, renting his own flat, or even staying in the cave where Sirius had lived while he was on the run just outside Hogsmeade. However the Leaky Cauldron was close to both Platform nine and three-quarters and his school supplies, and he was just as likely to be recognised there as in Hogsmeade. It was too much effort to rent or buy a flat just for a few weeks without drawing attention to himself, and he frankly didn't want to live in a cave.

No, the Leaky Cauldron seemed the best place, and if he disguised himself well enough, no one would recognise him.

Harry jerked out of his reverie at the sound of Vernon shouting again. He heard the front door slam and the car start up and gathered that his uncle was going for a drink today after all.

At least he would have a few hours peace, but after his outburst today, Harry had no illusions as to what awaited him that night.

_Guys, hate me if you will. You'll probably think I have a lack of creativity and have a list of nasty things to say the length of my arm. Don't bother. Don't like it, don't read. Yes, a lot of this chapter is copy-pasted from my other fic. I just wanted to say that I enjoy reading this fic, I enjoyed writing it. I write for me, foremost, and I forsaw a lot of hate because I re-hashed my old work instead of coming up with something new, which is why this has not been posted even though most of it has been written for well over a year. _

_That said, if you liked this, I could really use a kind word right now._

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	3. Chapter 2

Harry was asleep when Vernon returned, and the room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the moon. The front door made a loud crash as it slammed shut; and Harry sat upright in bed immediately, jamming his too-small glasses onto his face and wincing with pain.

He looked around him, and was satisfied to see that his preparations from earlier were well in place in case things should go too badly tonight.

He knew he couldn't use magic, so he'd waited for Petunia to go to bed before heaving his trunk downstairs. It awaited him, under his invisibility cloak, on the front lawn. He hoped he would be able to get it back inside if he needed to, if nothing bad happened tonight. He was pretty sure that was unlikely though, after the way things had went this afternoon.

He ran his hand over his hip, feeling where his wand was held in the waistband of his pajamas, and felt a little more secure. No matter what happened, he wouldn't get hurt too badly, even if it meant being hauled up for underage magic charges in front of the minister for magic again.

He tensed as he hear uncle Vernon come up the stairs, his footsteps heavy. Harry knew from the way they fell that his uncle had had an extraordinary amount to drink tonight.

He relaxed as he heard Vernon shut himself in the bathroom, and for a long time there was silence. He began to think he'd fallen asleep in there; maybe he had, because by the time he heard movement out in the hall again, it was through a sleepy haze, and when he'd woken up enough to sit up in bed, he realised that Vernon's fat body was blocking the door frame.

Harry half leapt, half fell out of bed, thankful that he'd fallen asleep with his glasses on, and was on his feet shakily in a moment, but in three heavy strides his uncle was in front of him, a new expression on his face: fury mixed with something else just as threatening.

Harry stepped back, reaching for his wand, but a sweaty hand closed on his neck, forcing his chin up, and before his hand could close over the stick of holly wood, he was pushed backwards away from Vernon forcefully. He lost balance and hit the wall, his shoulder colliding painfully with the cupboard.

He wondered how Petunia could just lie in bed and listen to this every night.

Vernon was charging towards him, and Harry heard his shirt rip and his breath caught in his chest as he was grabbed by the collar.

"You'll wish you were never born, boy." Vernon's voice was quiet and threatening, and Harry felt an unexplainable chill in his stomach. Something was different.

He was shoved roughly into a corner, and this time it was his cheek that took the brunt of the blow. Vernon's hand was pressing so tightly around his neck, pushing it so hard against the wall, that Harry though his nose might break.

Something was wrong.

Why was Vernon breathing like that?

He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow, but instead he heard the unmistakable sound of a fly being unzipped.

His eyes flew open in shock.

He felt a rough tug on the back of his trousers, but Harry had tied the scrap of leather that had once been a belt on too tight.

The revelation of what Vernon was about to do hit him like a ten tonne lorry, and for a moment Harry thought he'd forgotten to breath and felt as if he would black out from the panic.

_No. No. NO!_

He violently pushed off from the wall, a surge of strength which he could only attribute to accidental magic helping him break Vernon's grip on his neck. He nearly tripped over himself, but propelled himself towards the door, blindly falling across the landing down the stairs in his panic, grabbing the handrail just in time to stop himself freefalling down headfirst, but not securely enough for him to keep his grip when gravity tugged him sharply.

He fell down the bottom half of the stairs, landing on his hands on the second bottom step, and sliding speedily down the last one and into the opposite wall. Though dazed and blind in the darkness, he could hear Vernon thumping after him, and forced himself to his feet, clinging to the wall for support and gasping at a sharp pain in his chest.

He hoped the direction he was staggering in was towards the door, and to his relief his hands met the familiar wooden surface before Vernon reached the bottom of the stairs. As he finally managed to grasp the door handle, there was a resounding _crash_ and a few rhythmic thumps, and Harry knew his uncle had fallen, but rather than relief, he felt panic as he fumbled with the bolt; Vernon was now only feet away from him, and he didn't dare look behind him to see whether he was still coming for him.

When he finally managed to wrench the door open, Harry threw himself out onto the porch, gasping in relief at the fresh air and stumbling towards his hidden trunk.

He ended up tripping over it, but looking back at the blurry black mass that was number four, he wasted no time in pulling the cloak over his body and settled himself, hunched over, on top of the trunk.

He sat and shivered for a long time, not wanting to think about it. After a while though, he could feel thoughts waiting to be thought, pressing in on his skull, so he began to pick at his nails to keep himself busy.

He'd lost his glasses, he thought vaguely, how would he get onto the knight bus if he was blind. Everyone would see the bruises, they'd notice him, and then they'd see his scar…

If it got out that Harry Potter was wandering around in the middle of the night covered in bruises, he'd never hear the end of it. Everyone would know, and everyone would ask what happened, and Dumbledore would look at him with those x-ray vision eyes and he'd know right away - but that couldn't happen.

He found a jagged point on his left ring finger nail, and he focussed on it, picking harder.

He wouldn't even let himself think the words, but he felt as if he was drowning in his shame. He didn't want to question the feeling, probe any further, or think about what might have happened.

Everyone would know.

If Vernon Dursley could have ensured Harry's silence in a more complete or perfect way, Harry didn't know of it.

He was wearing only his pajama bottoms, and he was beginning to shiver, but for the cold this time. He wanted to get up and put on clothes from his trunk, but the windows of Privet Drive stared down at him accusingly, as if searching for the invisible figure on the lawn.

He sat there for so long, frozen by indecision and the cool night air, that when he finally moved he wasn't sure whether he'd been still for hours or mere minutes.

Pulling the cloak tighter around himself, he glanced nervously back at the house. He was glad Vernon had given up before chasing him outside, but it was unlike him to give up so quietly. He'd expected to hear a few choice curses bellowed from inside; this looming silence made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He wondered if Vernon was still lying at the bottom of the stairs.

He stood up, concealing himself as he dragged his fully visible school trunk slowly off the grass. He remembered hiding under the covers as a small child - as he grew older even being in the cupboard felt safe enough - hiding from monsters in the dark.

It was the unspoken rule that if they couldn't see you, they couldn't hurt you, and in his dazed state it was to this childhood rule he subconsciously reverted. Safe under his invisible safety blanket, he trudged down Privet Drive, heading for the same children's park he'd hidden in before he'd started third year. Where he'd first seen Sirius.

It hurt to move. His palms felt as if they'd been skinned, and his head was throbbing. Sometimes when he moved his chest twinged again, but he kept walking.

He walked for what seemed like hours, through in reality he knew it was only a ten minute walk to the park. His hands were stinging badly now, and sticky too. He gasped in relief as soon as his feet took him to the very edge of the play area.

Then he stopped, breathing heavily, to think.

He couldn't believe that his own uncle would…

_Did he mean it as a punishment? Or after all these years, has he been waiting to…._

Harry felt ill. He felt disgusted. He was shaking again, feeling sick from what had almost happened.

Vernon had said he was a disgusting freak. Why would he…

He didn't want to think about it ever again. He had had his wand with him, he should have held it ready, he should never have let Vernon get that close to him without having his wand pointed at him.

Pushing the ugly thoughts of what might have been away, Harry made himself smile. He had to forget, he had to never think of this again.

He couldn't.

He took a moment or two to just breath. He made himself concentrate on the dimly green grass, the grey fence nearby, which was only a vague blur. He looked at the solemn clouds, only dark lumps up ahead, but for a bit he imagined they were silver-lined by the moon, and tried not to think of anything else.

He was fine. He had to be.

Under his cloak, he looked around to see if there was any movement in the vicinity. He didn't stop to think that any watchers would already have seen a large trunk transport itself along a sizeable stretch of pavement and stop and lie down at the edge of the park.

All corners of the park were motionless so, flattening his fringe over his scar nervously, he took the cloak off and knelt beside his trunk.

He fumbled at the locks and then ran his hands over the top layer of clothes. He'd left his disguise until the end to pack, so he would be able to find it easily.

He felt Dudley's old bulky hoodie first, and pulled it over his bare chest, grateful for the sudden warmth. Next he felt the sharp peak of Dudley's baseball cap, so he put it on any pulled the hood up. Hopefully that would hide the worst bruises. It had been risky, taking Dudley's favourite hat; Piers had brought it back from a holiday in New York for him as a birthday present, but he didn't have anything of his own which would hide his face so well.

It took longer to locate a pair of suitable trousers by touch. His hoodie was battered and old looking, and he didn't want to draw attention to himself by wearing too many similarly ragged things at once, but it was hard trying to identify the jeans he wanted by touch.

When he finally located his least worn jeans, he pulled them over his pajamas, too cold to take them off. For shoes he realised he hadn't packed any trainers in his haste; only his school shoes remained. Groaning, he pulled them on. They were tight, and he knew they looked ridiculous with the rest of his outfit.

Ready at last, he closed his trunk, fumbling once again with the catches. He felt for the handle and stood up shakily, gripping his bruised side.

For a few moments he only stood, looking around in bewilderment at the blurred world around him. He'd have to think out every action and movement if he was going to get away with pretending he wasn't as blind as a bat.

_I'll just take everything slowly._

If worst came to worst, he could admit to having lost his glasses, and hope that no one looked to closely, or pictured his round frames on his face.

Shakily, wishing for luck, he dragged his trunk back towards the road, and held his wand outstretched.

BANG!

A bright purple triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air and Harry remembered to force another grin. It didn't work. He tried again.

He was alright.

He patted the galleons in his pocket which he'd counted out earlier that night.

He was alright.

As Stan Shunpike stepped out of the bus, Harry kept his head down, and held out the coins. "The Leaky Cauldron, please." He said, hoping that Stan would hurry up and take them, and the bribe too, to stop him asking questions, instead Stand took his time picking out the right coins from his palm and ignored the rest.

"You alright in there-?" Stan asked, squinting at him, but Harry ducked his head.

"I'm fine. Take me to the Leaky Cauldron." he repeated

"Alrigh', alrigh', no need to be rude, give us a mo' - say did you want a toothbrush?"

"Just the bed is fine, thanks." Harry said impatiently, but by that time he had managed to slowly make his way onto the bus without tripping or showing obvious signs of blindness, so he sank onto the nearest bed in relief while Stan collected his trunk.

As he lay down, he pulled the peak of his cap over his face as if he was sleeping, and turned away from Ernie and Stan, keeping one hand firmly gripping the side of the bed.

Thankfully, the Knight Bus only made three other stops before the Leaky Cauldron, but his exit was made trickier because a gruff sounding wizard got off there too, and as Harry cautiously felt his way out of the bus, the other wizard complained and tried to chivvy him along.

Harry set his jaw, kept his head down and his pace steady.

As he'd hoped, Tom had no problem giving a room to a suspicious character with a hidden face, but Harry was sure he raised more than a little suspicion when he was shown to his room. The stairs were tricky and unevenly spaced, and he had to feel his way up with his feet while Igor, the porter, waited impatiently at the top, Harry's trunk on his shoulder. He could almost feel Tom's eyes on his back. Once the ordeal with the stairs was over however, he was expected to follow Igor though several darkened corridors to his room. He got lost in the dark twice, and had to stand still and wait for Igor to grunt at him so he could follow the sound.

He waited, standing, for Igor to set down his trunk in his room, and waited for the click of the door shutting, before sinking onto the bed, fully-clothed, and shutting his eyes.

The next day, Harry crept down the stairs slowly. He needed to get to muggle London. He didn't know where to start when it came to buying wizard glasses, and he was less likely to be recognised outside of Diagon Alley.

He managed to get out of the Leaky Cauldron without causing a scene, but out on the crowded street it was a different story. He tried to get a reasonable distance away from the pub, squinting at the street for cars that looked like a taxi, but he tripped and stumbled so often he could easily picture the disapproving glances he must be getting. People would think he was drunk.

When he finally fell and landed on his already sore hands, he gave up.

"Help." he called out helplessly, getting to his feet "I've lost my glasses, can someone help me?"

Blurred people-shaped blobs brushed by him as he repeated himself; one pushed against his shoulder so roughly he fell over again.

Harry was not a tearful person, but the sense of overwhelming helplessness was awful, and he felt tears pricking his eyes as he tried again.

"_Help," _he called at the passing blurs _"I've lost my glasses, can someone call me a taxi!"_

"'Ere son," someone close by said finally, "There's a taxi rank just over there, give me yer arm."

Harry held out his arm cautiously, though he felt like sobbing in relief, remembering to keep his head down as much as possible at the last moment.

He was lead over to a black car, and he hesitated before getting in, checking for a likely blur on top of the cab, indicating that it was indeed a taxi and not someone trying to kidnap him.

He thought he saw a taxi sign on top, but he relaxed and got in when he heard the driver's handheld radio buzz and beep.

"I've lost my glasses," he explained as he got in "I need to go to an optician's. Any one."

"You all right kid?" the driver asked, and he could feel eyes on him. He looked down while the taxi started moving. "That's some scrape you have there."

Harry wasn't sure which particular 'scrape' the driver was referring too, so he merely replied "Got in a fight with a guy. He broke my glasses."

"Yeah?" the driver's voice was sceptical "And how long ago was that."

"None of your business." Harry said sharply, giving up. The rest of the journey was in silence.

He was dropped off on a busy street filled with muggle shoppers with bulging carrier bags. The taxi driver had pointed out the right building to him briefly, and he hurried towards the spot.

He wasn't sure he had the right place. Did the driver mean the shop to the left perhaps? Everything was a blur. He gritted his teeth, feeling tears of frustration again, and hating the helplessness.

Someone with a fussy female voice hurried over, a thin blurred figure in black.

"Are you thinking about laser eye surgery?" the voice asked excitedly, pressing a leaflet into his hands. He could see she had a wad of them under her arm. "We offer treatments for only two hundred pounds, if you sign up today."

Harry sighed, relief coursing through him, then searched for the right words.

"Um." Harry had no idea what laser-eye surgery was, but it didn't sound pleasant. "I'm looking for glasses, please. I lost mine."

"Excellent!" the woman cut in, motioning towards the shop "Would you like me to show you our range? You could walk away today with a designer frame for as little as a ninety pounds!"

_As 'little'? _Harry had muggle money on him, thanks to helping himself to Petunia's purse the night before, but he wondered if he had enough.

He felt a rush of guilt. He was desperate, but he hated he'd been desperate enough to steal. He'd pay her back, he promised himself again. At the time he'd just been anxious about going into Gringotts; he didn't have his key and he wasn't sure if they'd let him take any money without it, so he'd resorted to rifling in his Aunt's handbag.

Wordlessly, he followed the saleswoman into the shop.

"Geek-chic is very in right now." she bubbled, passing him an oversized pair or red frames to try on. Harry stared at himself doubtfully in one of the mirrors on the wall. They weren't the right prescription, but he could see a little better than before, but he didn't need good eyesight to know that he didn't want giant red glasses.

"I don't think I need to look too much more like a geek." he said firmly, handing them back and casting his eye over the array of spectacles on the walls. "I just want something simple." He left out the fact that he couldn't see himself in the mirror; the frames of the glasses were filled with glass that wasn't the same as his prescription.

He knew his round frames were hopelessly outdated, but he liked that they made him look like his father. The only problem was that they were so distinctive.

"Look I need thicker glasses," he explained quickly "I have really weak eyesight."

"If you need your eyes tested you'll need to come back in two weeks to collect your frames." the woman sounded disapproving "You didn't say-"

"I know," Harry said desperately "But I was in a fight and I lost my glasses."

"I was wondering about your face." the woman said sniffily "But no matter what your circumstances-"

"How much?" Harry said

"Excuse me?"

"How much extra do I need to pay to get my glasses now?"

He heard a sort of irritated cough "I'm afraid-"

"You could call it a tip." he prompted, closing his eyes and praying she'd catch on faster.

There was a silence.

"Well," she said hesitantly "the only way I could think to do that is to give you an eye test now, and search the shop catalogue to see if there happens to be any glasses already in stock that happen to suit your eyes."

"Great." Harry said "Go ahead."

A full hour later Harry escaped from the shop, clutching a bag containing several spare sets of contact lenses to last him through the school year.

There had been no glasses in his prescription, but by handing over a few more bank notes that he was too blind to make out the assistant had admitted they had a wide range of contact lenses ready to go. He didn't both thanking her as he left.

He'd never worn contacts before, but so far he was impressed. He could see clearer than he ever had before, although he'd known he'd needed to get his eyes retested for some time now so he didn't think that was down to the contacts. He could barely feel them, and he was already looking forward to playing quidditch with them on.

It was relieving to be able to see where he was going; he'd never felt so grateful just to be able to _see_.

Looking around at the now in-focus world, he was glad to see he was surrounded by muggle clothes shops. He badly needed a new wardrobe, especially as he had weeks before term started during which he had to disguise himself. Suddenly a barber shop caught his eye and he began to move hastily towards the shopping centre before he made any more drastic decisions. He knew his hair was far too long now though - it brushed his shoulders - but he was yet to have a pleasant experience getting his hair cut so he'd leave it for later. He made his way into a nearby shopping centre.

The clean white interior of the building was filled with bustling muggles, and Harry walked as slowly as he could, feeling intimidated by the glossy storefronts. What had happened to his life? He remembered being a little scared of places like the apothecary in Diagon Alley with its old fashioned and gloomy exterior, and its shelves inside filled with bottled animal parts and pickled plant life, but now he felt as if, were he to see a shop like that in here, he would hurry in just to escape the gleaming plastic displaysand the large, unmoving posters of smiling models.

When had he become so used to being a wizard that the muggle world made him feel unwelcome?

He wandered into the nearest store, a shoe shop, and walked around from shelf to shelf looking at all the shoes. It was hard to pick things which he thought made him look good – until now he had never been able to pick his own clothes, apart from his school uniform, and that didn't really count as being his own choice.

However he survived his first foray into the world of fashion and emerged from the store some time later clutching several bags and feeling distinctly cheated. What was it with muggle salesmen? He was sure they weren't lying when they'd told him that all the shoes were the height of fashion, but since when had he cared about that? How on earth had he been persuaded to spend that much money on footwear?

Harry decided to stop and think carefully about his next purchases. He pretended to window shop as he thought about what he wanted to get next.

Clothes, of course he wanted his own. He kept catching sight of his reflection in the glass windows of shops and marvelled at how different he looked without his glasses. Would people even recognise him as Harry Potter without them, if he hid his scar? He was sure that if he bought himself some decent clothes, even Ron and Hermione wouldn't recognise him.

The only thing was, he wasn't sure what sort of look he was going for. Maybe he should look around the shops and see what sort of clothes he liked?

He made his way to the nearest menswear shop, but everything seemed to remind him of uncle Vernon. He left quickly and looked around to see where other boys his age were shopping and followed a group into a sports shop. _Don't want to come home looking like one of Dudley's friends _he decided, but he bought a newer hoodie to replace his worn out one, and then moved onto a fashionable looking shop a short distance away.

Initially Harry found himself baffled by the vast array of clothes. He saw a few tshirts he liked and, picking up a basket, decided to buy them. Then he realised that he would need jeans too, and identified a few likely looking pairs. Looking down in his basket, Harry was somewhat disappointed to see how ordinary his selections looked. They were basically better-fitting versions of the clothes that Petunia and Vernon had given him. He hung them all back on their racks and decided to get the basics first and grabbed several neutral coloured pairs of socks and underwear.

_What kind of look do I want?_ he thought, looking at the youths around him. Many wore just jeans and t-shirts, a few were exhibiting the 'geek-chic' look that the optician saleswoman had tried to sell him, but Harry couldn't see himself looking cool in v-neck jumpers with their rather ugly and old-fashioned patterns. Some people just had an aura about them; they carried off their look well. The girl at the till looked stunning in a dress that would make Hermione or Ginny look as if they were wearing old curtains. But then Hermione and Ginny didn't do their hair like that; in a messy up-do, or wear heels or earrings.

Harry decided that if he wanted to look different he needed to be a bit more daring. The old Harry Potter wore hand me downs, the new one needed to wear things that looked different to what he was used to. And also, he admitted to himself shyly, he would quite like to look good. Nothing like Malfoy in his expensive suits, but just something that looked _normal, _something that suited him, made him look interesting rather than drab.

He examined several other teenagers around him. Many of them seemed to get most of their look from their hair, and he even spotted a few haircuts he liked enough to get himself. He toyed with the idea of getting an earring, but decided against it, and hurriedly shook his head to get the ridiculous idea out of it. Wizards just didn't _do _things like that! Except Bill Weasley, but somehow that was different. He could only imagine, with horror, the reaction he might get from Snape if he walked into class with an earring.

Eventually he found a couple of pairs of jeans that looked sufficiently 'interesting', with rather impressive price tags and, with an eye on his depleting money supply, found some t-shirts and jumpers that looked pretty good. He made sure that all his selections looked nothing like anything Dudley would ever wear. He spent some time deliberating over a fancy leather jacket but in the end decided he'd rather have a dragon hide one if he was going to spend that much money and left it.

As he stood in the checkout line he added some trendy looking bracelets and a necklace after realising that several other boys in the queue were wearing them. At the last moment he decided against two of the bracelets and picked up a belt, and then wondered if buying any of this was a good idea after all, but by then it was too late and most of the clothes were in plastic shopping bags and Harry gaped at how much it all came to.

Pockets somewhat lighter, Harry stopped to sit down on a conveniently placed bench to watch the muggles pass by and attempt not to have a panic attack. He had never spent money so frivolously in his life. And so much of it…

He looked down at his numerous shopping bags, head spinning. What had he been thinking? He wore robes most of the year, for goodness sakes! The thought of taking all his purchases back to the shop entered his head, and he half got to his feet before he caught sight of his reflection in a nearby window.

A small, skinny, boy draped in what looked like elephant skin gazed back at him.

He sank back onto the bench, staring.

His hair was thick and untidy, and not in a good way. It longer than he remembered. His face was pointy and hollow looking. He had dark smudges under his eyes, and his bruises were horribly obvious. When did he get a cut lip? Without his glasses, he looked like a lost sheep, but when he remembered what he had looked like with the awful contraptions on, he realised dully that it was an improvement. His clothes were far too large. He looked like he had wandered in from the street, he was even surprised no one had pulled him up about where such an obviously poor person had gotten so much money from.

Abruptly, he decided to get rid of Dudley's old disgusting clothes, and as he stood up he looked over his reflection once more. He's forgotten he was so painfully short. He headed into the nearby public toilets and put on some ripped blue jeans, a black and red t-shirt and a pair of his new trainers. He revelled in the feeling of wearing socks and underwear that were actually new, and got several odd looks from muggles emerging from the toilet cubicles for standing and beaming at himself in the mirror for such a long time.

Reluctantly he covered his face again with his hat, but with a new hoodie over the top. He snorted at his reflection. He'd never looked less like a wizard.

Wasting no time, he headed for the barber shop he had seen, dumping Dudley's old clothes in the nearest bin as he went.

11


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does_

Ron waited near the entrance to platform 9¾ for Harry to arrive. They hadn't seen each other all summer and he was worried about how his friend had been holding up, forced to stay with that bloody awful muggle family of his. Beside him, Ginny flicked through a magazine while their mother fretted quietly about how skinny Harry was likely to be, and whether the muggles had been treating him well. _Probably not, _Ron thought ruefully as he reminisced about how Harry had appeared every other September first, scrawny, pale and wearing ragged muggle clothes.

It was strange, with only himself, Ginny and their mother standing on the platform. Mr Weasley had rushed away at the last moment to sort out a problem involving a screaming public fellytone in Wigtownshire and the other Weasley siblings were all too old for Hogwarts now. Even Ginny looked more grown-up, thought Ron ruefully, imagining all the potential boyfriends he'd have to chase off this year. Ron himself was taller than ever, his large hands and feet emphasizing his long arms and legs. The only change however, that Ron had noticed - and one he was rather proud of - was that he was now able to start shaving. Beside him Ginny rolled her eyes after she peered over _Witch Weekly _to see him dreamily reach up to rub his patchy stubble once again.

He wished Harry would hurry up; he received rather short replies to all of his letters and he had spent the whole summer with the worry of how alone, bored and possibly mistreated Harry would be nagging at the back of his mind. _If those muggles bothered him in the slightest, I'm going to send them a box of Fred and George's self-igniting firecrackers, _he decided.

Both Weasleys jumped rather suddenly as a rattling luggage trolley topped with a large cage containing a snowy owl burst through the barrier beside them and sped on, rattling across the platform. If it weren't for the stretch of runway that people instinctually left clear, Harry, a tousle-haired blur, would have mowed down half the crowd.

"It's Harry!" exclaimed Ginny needlessly, throwing her magazine down and leaping off her trunk, her shining hair catching Ron in the eye as she sped after it. Ron, rubbing his eyes, ambled after her although up ahead the trolley and its owner had disappeared into the crowd.

Harry finally reached a quiet part of the platform where he could stop and think. No one approached him, so he hoped that Tonks and Kingsley had either lost him in the crowd or finally gotten the message: he was not pleased to see them.

For the remaining three weeks of summer, Harry had been able to wander Diagon Alley unmolested. In the end, he'd had his hair cut to a spiky, but not too short style, and the moment he returned to the Leaky Cauldron he'd applied his glamour in front of the mirror and was pleased with the results, and he even made his nose a little pointier just to double his disguise. He'd used a colour changing charm to lighten his hair to a mousey brown, and his eyes to a light blue, and he hadn't got any second glances.

In the last week though, he'd had to keep to his room. He'd spotted Tonks, Moody, Shacklebolt and Mr Weasley around Diagon Alley more than once, often searching the faces of passers-by and he realised his absence must have been noticed.

_Took them long enough._

They didn't find him, though he'd watched them return each day, searching more frantically as term grew closer. On the last day he saw a team of redheads followed by Hermione, and he wondered if his friends had been told he was missing.

He was sure they would stop for lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, but by that time he'd long since started ordering room service, so he didn't get to speak to them anyway.

Not long after he arrived, he had asked Tom at the Leaky Cauldron if there was any way to stop owls from tracking him down. The barkeep had looked at him oddly, but Harry hadn't worried because he looked nothing like his usual self.

"We have some untraceable rooms," Tom offered "if you want to swap."

Harry had agreed, though he had to pay a small amount extra for it. He was on the last reserves of his wizarding money though, and he had to eat only breakfast for the last two weeks of his stay to afford it, but Harry was used to not getting much food. He just felt irritated that Dumbledore had his vault key, but he didn't feel like getting angry so he tried not to dwell on it.

His luck had run out at Kings Cross though.

The Order had known he would probably turn up for school, and Harry had decided he'd rather risk the platform than end up stuck on the Knight Bus being questioned relentlessly about his summer whereabouts while he waited to get to school.

He'd changed his nose and eyes back to normal, and only kept his hair its light brown colour, but he hadn't been too worried about pushing his trolley past Tonks and Kingsley. That was a mistake.

He didn't know what had done it - perhaps his face was just recognisable to those he knew him, or maybe they'd seen his eyes…he wished he'd thought to keep them blue a little longer.

It was too late now though. Just as he went through the barrier, he'd felt a spell hit him, and he felt his glamour disappear. He'd panicked, but had no choice but to continue through, hoping he could lose them in the crowd for long enough to reapply the charm.

He looked around him, relieved to see the crowd had closed in after him, though he could see a flash of pink by the barrier which meant Tonks was through and looking for him.

He checked his hair, groaning to see the spell he'd been hit with had changed it back to black.

Well he didn't think he'd have time to change it, and in any case he wanted them to think all the enchantments were off. The last thing he needed was for them to cast it again to be sure and remove his glamour again. That is, if he could put it back on in time. He focused on the photograph he'd memorised, pointing his wand at his face.

"_Os meus _-"

"Potter what the hell are you doing?"

Harry twirled on the spot, and stopped with his wand trained on Malfoy, who was surveying him with blatant hungry curiosity.

"Who got to you?" Malfoy's eyes travelled greedily over Harry's face, and he felt himself wince, picturing the scar he knew was still there, and the fading bruise on his cheek which was still slightly visible.

"Malfoy, don't say anything." Harry begged as he heard Tonks shout in the background '_He's over there!' _

Malfoy heard the shout too. "What's it worth to you?" he said slowly, his grey eyes travelling over Harry's face, wearing an unreadable expression.

Harry was too scared to feel angry, merely relieved that Malfoy was bribeable.

"You can name your price later," Harry said desperately "You didn't see anything!"

Malfoy opened his mouth, a confused frown hovering on his pointed features, but then he caught sight of something over Harry's shoulder, and Harry knew it was now or never.

"_Os meus movete! ***_

(***notes for any Latin speakers, or anyone interested.

It translates as 'change/alter my face', or literally 'face of mine, change'. I didn't use _moveo _which probably would have sounded best of all in Latin but it's actual meaning is a statement rather than a command (translates 'I change/alter my face'), so I decided against it.

Secondary note for the Latin nerd: In the HBP movie, Hermione sends birds to attack Ron by saying 'Oppugno' (I attack). But really, the birds are attacking not her, and as above, shouldn't she be ordering an attack, rather than stating she's attacking? She should have said 'Oppugnate!' ('Attack!', second person pl.), which I think still sounds quite magical.

Any comments? Add them in the review, I love talking about Latin

***)

For a brief moment Malfoy's eyes slid over to Harry in surprise, and then cold calculation formed in their grey depths as he registered the spell.

Harry sent a begging look at him, hoping it would work better than angry words and hexes had in the past, but Malfoy's face was expressionless as he turned and walked away and a hand closed on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry!"

"Tonks." he acknowledge, pushing her hand from his shoulder, but she moved it away quickly, looking hurt, but recovering quickly.

"Are you okay Harry? Where've you been, no on could find you, we thought you'd been kidnapped!"

Her face was worried and earnest, and Harry felt a flash of guilt and squirmed uncomfortably.

"I just decided to go to Diagon Alley early." he offered hopefully, and was relieved when she took the bait.

"Harry!" she closed her eyes, looking tired "We've been looking _everywhere_, there was no note, nothing! Your uncle - well, Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you about that."

Harry froze. Was Vernon okay? Had he been badly hurt. What if -

"Why didn't you wait to go with Molly and Arthur? We sent an owl two weeks ago."

A week after he'd left, Harry realised. So they'd waited a week for a reply before panicking.

He shrugged. "I left three weeks before term. I was staying in the Leaky Cauldron. I didn't think it would be a problem, I'm of age in the muggle world."

"It's not a case of being of age!" Tonks searched his face, looking upset "Harry, we were terrified you were dead! Anything could have happened to you, you know the danger."

Harry was beginning to feel like a monster. "Look, I'm sorry." he said gruffly "I just didn't think it would be a problem. I didn't think you'd find out. I thought my uncle and aunt were taking me to Kings Cross, so I just went ahead without them."

"You didn't think!" came a rough growl and Harry turned to face Moody, who looked furious.

"Harry?" a worried voice called, and he saw that Ginny had appeared beside Tonks, looking between Harry and Moody worriedly "Is everything okay?"

"What's up?" Ron puffed, jogging to a halt behind her, his hear tousled "Is everything alright?"

"No it's not!" Moody barked, grabbing Harry by the arm "Potter can't look after himself. Come on now boy, onto the train."

"I can get on by myself." Harry said stiffly, trying to pull himself free. He was alarmed that he suddenly felt a little light-headed. "Get off." he urged, tugging at his arm, feeling oddly panicked.

"Come now, no teenage displays!" Moodly ordered, tugging, and Harry felt a white mist descend where all he could feel was the tightening grip on his arm and how difficult it was to breath.

"Mr Moody, maybe you should-" he heard Ginny begin, but it was too late, Harry felt a rising surge of anxiety; he _had_ to get free.

"GET OFF ME!" he shouted, lashing out, and the tight grip disappeared.

His flailing arm collided with a face, and his foot kicked something hard, but he was free.

He tried to steady his breathing, but it only got worse as he looked around at the circle of white, shocked faces.

He had to get out.

He pushed past the one person who didn't look as if they were about to cart him off to St Mungo's, but Malfoy stepped aside with a raised eyebrow and a taunting smirk.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry examined himself in the mirror anxiously, but the glamour was still there. He'd worried for a moment that because he'd nearly lost consciousness…but no, the scar was gone. Until tonight at least. He'd have to do something to make sure Ron didn't open his curtains while he was sleeping, though there was no reason for that to happen unless he woke up the whole dormitory with his screaming episodes.

He sighed and clutched the side of the basin as the train began to move. He hoped someone had thought to bring his trunk and Hedwig on board.

The toilet door suddenly flew open, hitting him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he said loudly, hoping the person would go away. He'd been hoping to lock himself in here for at least until he'd decided what to tell Ron and Hermione, but he'd obviously been in such a state he hadn't locked the cubicle door.

"That you, Potter?" came a familiar voice, and Harry cursed his stupidity. _All I had to do was lock the door…_

"No." he said shortly, pushing the door shut, but he met resistance.

"Yes it is." the voice said, not sounding amused "I hope you're decent, I'm coming in."

"What - no!" Harry squawked, "I'm on the toilet!"

"No you're not." Malfoy said, pushing him out the way so he could come in. "Move."

"Get out!" Harry snapped, balancing on one leg and leaning over the toilet with his right hand propping him up against the wall to stay upright.

"No." Malfoy replied, locking the door, and shuffling back a little, allowing Harry to stand on two feet.

"What the hell do you want?" Harry was extremely uncomfortable being in such a small space with Draco Malfoy "This is a _toilet_, you can't just - come in!"

"I wanted to talk to you." Malfoy said sniffily, then hesitated, looking a little sick "You washed your hands already, didn't you?"

"I just came in to use the mirror." Harry replied bewilderedly

"Oh good. I thought I might have to disinfect my robes." was the snotty reply, and Harry could only stare.

"Look," he said, shaking his head to distract himself from the weirdness of the current situation "I suppose you want to know what was going on earlier, but-" he paused, trying to think of a plausible explanation that involved none of the truth.

"Before you waste time making up lies," Malfoy cut in "why don't you just tell me why you're hiding a hideous scar from your people with a glamour charm?"

Harry looked up at Malfoy in disbelief, but his impassive face gave nothing away. "How did you know that was a glamour charm?"

"Does it matter?" Malfoy said irritatedly "Just tell me why."

"It's none of your business." Harry shot back, hating that Malfoy was so much taller than him. It was hard to look imposing when your opponent was three inches taller.

"Nuh-uh." Malfoy shook his head, his taunting smirk making an appearance for the second time that day "you said I could choose my price later. It's later now, and for a start I want to know what's going on."

"I don't have to tell you anything!" Harry replied, though he could feel something heavy settling in his stomach. Malfoy had him trapped; he didn't know why he was pretending otherwise.

"Oh - so you don't mind if I go tell Granger that you're wearing a glamour then?" Malfoy said slyly, placing a hand on the door.

"No!" Harry said sharply, then winced.

Malfoy simply folded his arms and waited, eyebrow raised.

"I - I got into a fight over the summer." Harry said reluctantly "I just don't want them to fuss." Even he knew it was a pathetic lie.

Malfoy looked unimpressed "I meant the _truth_." he said emphatically.

"I can't just tell you things I can't even tell my friends," Harry tried reasoning with him "you wouldn't tell me _your _secrets, would you?"

_There's no point arguing or hexing. It won't shut him up. Never did before._

He wished he could hex him though.

"You tell me things you wouldn't tell your friends all the time." Malfoy smirked at him, his eyes glittering "Usually involving language that would have McGonagall spitting up hairballs."

"You know that's not what I mean." Harry said, frustrated. He furiously tried to thing of a way out of this.

"I know," Malfoy said, after a stretch of silence "a compromise."

"What?" Harry said suspiciously

"It means that you-"

"I know what a fucking compromise is!" Harry snapped, then huffed as Malfoy sniggered.

"Merlin, you're easy to wind up Potter!"

"What's the compromise?"

"Tell me the truth." Malfoy said simply

"That's not a -" Harry started angrily, but Malfoy shushed him

"Don't lie to me, I mean. Just tell me as much truth as you can. So far we've established you have hideous scars - plural now - on your face-"

"Will you stop calling me hideous!" Harry said, teeth gritted. What was it about Malfoy that rubbed him up the wrong way with every word he said?

"Disfiguring then. And secondly, you don't want anyone to see."

Harry shrugged. "There, you know now."

"I want more details."

"_Why_?"

"Because I like to know things Potter. Secrets are my currency. Come on now, why don't you want people to see? You're not vain enough…though we'll come to your weird clothes later. Did you get it doing something you shouldn't? Is it a top secret wonder-boy mission? Is it something embarrassing?"

Malfoy watched him with the eagerness of a dog waiting for a scrap of meat. Harry sighed. What could he do?

"It's embarrassing." he said quietly

"_Ooh_," Malfoy looked delighted "What kind of embarrassing are we talking here-"

"I'm not -" Harry said stiffly, feeling claustrophobic

"I got attacked at the zoo by a skunk embarrassing?"

"Let me out." Harry said

"Something more serious then." Malfoy deduced "Did you steal a muggle car thingy and crash it?"

"Let me out." Harry pressed against the door

"I got raped by my daddy embarrassing…or-"

Harry's hand slipped from the door and he closed his eyes. He already had a denial on his lips but when he opened his eyes to say it, Malfoy was looking at him wide-eyed.

"No!" Harry said, panicked. "That's not it!" he tried to laugh but it came out more like a cackle "I-"

"Someone-" Malfoy began, looking even more shocked and Harry realised he'd just went and confirmed what had been a joke

"Don't be stupid!" Harry snapped "My dad's dead, in case you forgot!"

Harry looked in desperation at the door. The lock was behind Malfoy, he could push him out the way - but how to make sure he kept his mouth shut?

"Look," Malfoy said, his voice low, and Harry snapped around in disbelief

"Not you!" he said angrily, giving Malfoy a shove

"What the hell Potter?!"

"I don't need your sympathy! Them - they would be bad enough, but _you_-"

CRACK

Harry fell back, stunned from the slap.

"Listen!" Malfoy shouted, rubbing his hand, then lowered his voice "Get a grip. If you ever got sympathy from _me_, we'd know the world was ending. I just came here for information. I _was _looking for an emotional foothold, but _this_-"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted "Don't you dare use this-" he dodged Malfoy's hand this time, but he interrupted as Harry caught his breath

"_Listen to me you imbecile_! I won't tell anyone, I just wanted to ask you a favour and I was looking for decent blackmail to make sure you gave it to me!"

For a moment the two boys just stared at each other, breathing heavily, faces flushed in anger.

"I think that's the most honest thing you've ever said to me." Harry said after a pause.

Malfoy's face cleared. "Go ahead then, tell me what happened, then I'll ask my favour. You might as well."

Harry wouldn't have said a word, except for the fact that what Malfoy had deduced was worse than the reality.

"I got into - that situation." he said slowly. "But nothing happened. I got away."

"With the scar." Malfoy gestured to his face.

"No. I got that before."

Malfoy stared at him in disbelief. "You mean you let me get hold of another secret, _as well_ as the one I already knew about? Potter - you'd make a pathetic Slytherin."

"The hat didn't think so." Harry said without thinking.

For a moment Malfoy didn't seem to know what he was talking about, then his eyes widened and he looked Harry up and down in disbelief. "The Sorting Hat? The Hat wanted _you _in Slytherin?"

"It said I'd do well." Harry said, not sure why he was telling him this.

There was a silence. Then Malfoy said:

"Maybe you would be a good Slytherin. You managed to distract me. Who did it then? To you?"

"My Uncle." Harry muttered "And he didn't. He just tried to."

"Right." Malfoy said contemplatively "And why didn't you agree to be a Slytherin then? We could have been friends."

Harry stared at him. _What an odd thing for Malfoy to come out with? Why does he look so edgy?_

For Draco Malfoy did look nervous. Harry didn't know what it was. Was he standing too still? or was Harry imagining things

"Because of you." Harry said, watching Malfoy's face "You reminded me of my cousin. You were awful. Rude to my friends. You thought you were better than me. I didn't want to be wherever you were going."

Well, Malfoy didn't look happy to hear that. Harry could only stare as his eyes flitted from wall to toilet to Harry's shoulder; anywhere but Harry. His shoulders had fallen a little, and he looked unsure of himself. Harry had an excited feeling the Malfoy was about to ask him his favour and it was going to be something that Harry would upset him by refusing.

Malfoy could make him say yes - all he had to do was threaten to tell the world Harry's secret, but elation filled his chest, because if it was something he could _make_ him do, Malfoy wouldn't be looking so put out.

"And now?"

It took Harry a few long moments before he could figure out what Malfoy meant.

"Well not much has changed." Harry said cautiously

"But _some _things have?"

Harry stared at Malfoy in disbelief. He was staring at the wall again, but when he saw Harry's expression his face twitched with anger.

"Please tell me you're not asking to be my friend." Harry tried to mask his laugh as a cough when he saw the look on Malfoy's face, but it was too late.

Malfoy reached for the door, but something made Harry backtrack.

"Wait - I'm sorry!"

Malfoy paused, and Harry did too. What had he been going to say? _Yes, do let's be friends, Draco!_

"Sorry." Harry tried "I thought you were joking."

Malfoy clenched his fist.

"Damn you Potter for making me do this again."

Harry stared, non-plussed.

Malfoy held out a hand.

13


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately._

_Here I sit, another year,_

_Another child sits on the chair,_

_I'll whisper in another ear_

_Then shout your house for all to hear!_

_Will you go to Ravenclaw?_

_If books and riddles inspire and awe,_

_And in a test you wipe the floor,_

_In this house you'll learn much more._

_Unless you have also a cunning mind_

_And plans to weave and wills to bind_

_Then to Slytherin belong your kind!_

_And what shall we say of Gryffindor_

_Where the brave don't quail when dragons roar_

_And to save another will face much more!_

_Then Hufflepuff, the loyal ones_

_These faithful chaps will never run_

_Trust a Hufflepuff if you trust anyone!_

_Once again I divide and sort_

_Again I wonder if I ought_

_But if I keep on voicing that - _

_Why there'll soon be no need for a sorting hat!_

There was a round of applause for the sorting Hat, which Hermione joined first. Harry joined in rather mechanically, then after a few claps stopped abruptly and folded his hands under the table. Ron, seemingly wrapped in his own thoughts joined in as the rest of the clapping was dying down.

"Archibald, Helen" shouted Professor McGonagall, and a small girl approached the hat.

"Gryffindor!" called the hat, barely seeming to skim the girl's head before the Gryffindor table

"Pegg, Angela" …

…ooo000ooo…

Harry didn't eat. He didn't pay attention to the sorting, nor to Dumbledore's speech. He felt angry and confused. Angry at Ron and Hermione, and confused at Draco Malfoy. When he'd finally found his way to his friends' carriage, they were full of questions. Where had he been for the last twenty minutes? And was it true that he ran away this summer? Why? And what had happened on the platform? Why had he attacked Moody? And why were his clothes …_different. _

Being back at Hogwarts was much better than Privet Drive, but still…why couldn't things go back to normal? Ron fell silent soon enough when Harry told them he didn't want to answer questions, though he looked angry and hurt. Hermione eventually stopped her questions too but he could _feel _her watching him, analysing him.

He hated it.

He couldn't stand to look at the headmaster, not after what had happened when he'd made him stay with the Dursleys again. So what if he would have been in danger anywhere else? What was new? _Anything _was better than what had happened this summer. Professor McGonagall had approached him before the feast. He was supposed to visit the headmaster's office the following night. Harry had not decided whether he was going to go or not.

It was Malfoy who occupied his thoughts most of all. He watched him from across the hall, and when he looked over a few moments later their eyes met for a second until Malfoy looked away.

"The very best of evenings to you all!" Dumbledore said, as the last of the pudding disappeared, snapping Hermione to attention. Dumbledore's outstretched hand caught her eye; it was black, coal black, and withered. Several other students noticed it too, judging by the gasps and mutters coming from around the hall. Dumbledore simply shook his sleeve over his hand and continued as if nothing had happened.

"Welcome to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry! To our hardened veterans - welcome back!" There was a smattering of clapping and a few cheers from the older students.

"As I'm sure you all realise, this year things will be a little different, with the terrible occurrences that have been happening more and more frequently lately - I'm sure many of you have been following the tragedies in the _Daily Prophet_."

The hall fell silent, many students bowing their heads or staring down at their laps. Harry felt his temper twitch yet again as he thought of Dumbledore's letters.

"The return of Lord Voldemort - " Dumbledore obligingly paused for several gasps from his audience "should have resulted in many changes in the way things are run in Hogwarts. Unfortunately, it is only now that I am able to put these plans into operation."

Suddenly the four tables were buzzing with whispers and murmurs, students turning to their neighbours to make surprised exclamations or just to exchange glances.

"But before I get into all of that, I want to introduce your new potions master, Professor Slughorn! "

"What!" Harry's head snapped up

"But Snape's still there!" Ron hissed under his breath, forgetting his awkwardness with Harry

"Ssh!" said Hermione irritably, making them both jump, speculatively eyeing the portly man who stood up and bowed to the hall which was now rife with whispers

"Professor Snape, on the other hand will now be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"No!" shouted Harry, leaping to his feet

Hermione let out a long suffering sigh and pulled him back down to the bench with a thump.

"Don't worry, mate" Ron whispered "They never last more than a year."

Harry did not reply, and Hermione gave him a stern look, motioning for silence so that she could listen to Dumbledore.

The headmaster waited for the whispers to die down before he continued speaking.

"In conjunction to this, OWL students who obtained a grade Acceptable and upwards may now continue on in NEWT level Potions-" Harry sniggered at the look of disdain on Snape's face at this proclamation, and then remembered that he needed to take both potions and defence if he wanted to become an auror. This thought distracted him for several long moments before he remembered that the headmaster was still speaking.

"…and the full, annoted list may be obtained from Mr Filch. And now onto the most important topic." Harry sat up straight, curious despite his anger at Dumbledore, along with the rest of the school.

"This year, you will notice that measures are being taken to protect you; this includes aurors patrolling the general area and adding various defensive spells to the grounds. I must ask you not to get in their way as they work. Rules, including the rule that students are not to be out of bed after hours, must be followed, no matter how irksome you may find them. They are in place for your security, and any rule breakers will be punished severely. I urge you all to act with your safety in mind, and that of others around you. If anything suspicious, either in the castle or grounds comes to your attention, please report it to a member of staff. I cannot impress upon you enough how much danger a careless action, or failure to take precautions, can bring. You will be notified if there are any further safety measures being taken that will

affect your day to day routine."

At last Dumbledore stepped back, surveying his audience with his brilliant blue eyes.

"This year, I ask of you all to extend the hand of friendship to those who are different from yourselves, as well as those where friendship comes easily. Sometimes the best of friendships are forged in unexpected places. We cannot hope to defeat the dark forces gathering outside this castle while we are divided within. Your professors particularly have expressed wishes for more amicable relations between houses, and as such there will be changes made within your classes to help encourage inter-house relations." At this, Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he looked from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherins.

"Now … It has been a long day, and I am sure we all now have food for thought, however I must also impress on you the value of a good night's sleep before your classes tomorrow morning. I think it is time for us all to turn in for the night. Pip pip!"

…ooo000ooo…

The first couple of days were fairly uneventful. Despite Dumbledore's rather serious ending to his speech, the trio had yet to spot anything out of the ordinary affecting the running of Hogwarts. Romilda Vane was heard reminiscing at length about a conversation she had had with a dark, mysterious auror in the grounds near Hagrid's hut, but so far she seemed to be the only one to be affected by 'increased security'.

Harry found himself wondering if Dumbledore's words had simply been the old man's way of letting off steam. Despite his hint that there would be changes in the way students from different houses were to be working together, Harry was yet to see any professors explicitly enforce it. The closest they came to it was in Charms, where Professor Flitwick had seated him beside Ernie MacMillan rather than Ron, but this was hardly groundbreaking; the two boys were reasonably friendly after being in the DA together, although Ernie was irritatingly Hermione-like when it came to playing hangman or passing notes in class.

The Gryffindors only had Defence, Potions and Herbology with the Slytherins, and Snape certainly didn't show any inclination to encourage friendships between the rival houses. Instead, he seated Harry beside Malfoy, probably to provoke a fight more than anything else. There hadn't yet been an opportunity for Harry to show his colours in his favorite subject, but when he did he was sure Snape would recognise the seating arrangements as an opportunity to take him down a peg or two.

In potions with Slughorn, who turned out to be a rather good-natured teacher anyway, they were allowed to sit where they pleased. Harry was yet to have a Herbology class but he couldn't see Sprout being particularly strict either; the seating in the greenhouses consisted of benches in any case, so they couldn't really be paired up too strictly.

Since the journey to Hogwarts, Harry just didn't feel right. He'd changed this summer, and where he'd once shared everything with his friends, now he just couldn't bring himself to even think up a lie to explain his behaviour on platform nine and three-quarters. It had to be done soon though. He was tired of Hermione watching him like he was a bomb about to go off, and it wasn't lost on him that Ron had started spending more time with Seamus than Harry.

The new Harry enjoyed time alone more than being in the noisy Gryffindor common room, but it seemed as if whenever he did want to be alone he couldn't get away from his friends, unless started doing his homework. This usually made Ron leave, and Hermione would study beside him, but at least she didn't talk to him too often.

When he wanted the company of his friends though, Ron always happened to be with Seamus, and Hermione seemed to think he was trying to tell her why he'd been acting so strangely, and started asking leading questions.

He felt he couldn't win.

Despite the changes, he was already beginning to slip back into a somewhat subdued version of his usual routine, thoughts of Sirius only bothering him when he tried to get to sleep at night, and even then he was thankful at least that there were no accompanying nightmares. The Gryffindor quidditch tryouts loomed on Friday, and Harry was vaguely looking forward to playing with Katie Bell as captain, especially as he'd be able to try out his new contact lenses on the field for the first time.

It was nice, having fashionable clothes, but sometimes he was disappointed that he could only wear them on the weekends. Other times he wished he had his old clothes back, so he didn't have to deal with Hermione and Ron looking him up and down oddly every morning. Ron in particular really didn't seem to take well to his new possessions, a dark expression always appeared on his face when Harry put them on.

On Wednesday morning, a school owl delivered him a note requesting his presence in Dumbledore's office the following Tuesday, following his non attendance to the meeting the headmaster had previously invited him to.

"I suppose he's going to tell me off for leaving Privet Drive." Harry said darkly.

"Harry," Hermione said haltingly "are going to tell us -"

"Look," Harry snapped "I'm of age in the muggle world, I had every right to - "

"There's no need to be like that!" Ron said hotly

"And you're not a muggle, Harry." Hermione said "So wizarding laws apply to you, even if you are in the muggle world. And I'm more interested in why you left in the first place."

"I told you," Harry said impatiently "I was sick of being treated like a house-elf, you know I hate the Dursleys."

"Is that all there is to it?" Hermione said disbelievingly

"Yes!"

"Maybe we should just drop it for now, yeah?" Ron said suddenly, looking tense. Harry shot him a grateful smile, and he relaxed.

"This'll be the start of the private lessons he told me about last year." Harry said glumly, after a slightly awkward moment of silence, and passed the note to Hermione "I wonder what he wants to show me."

"I bet it's going to be loads of really difficult and rare hexes and curses," Ron said, as he read the note over Hermione's shoulder "the kind Death Eaters won't even have heard of."

"First of all," Hermione sighed, stirring her porridge with a long suffering roll of the eyes, "Those kinds of things would be illegal. If anything, it'll be advanced defensive magic. And secondly, didn't you say he'd be showing you memories of Voldemort in his pensive Harry? He didn't say anything about spells."

"Rather you than me," Ron said as Harry shrugged moodily "Think about how many people he's tortured - any memories of him aren't likely to be pleasant."

"Don't be ridiculous Ron!" Hermione said scornfully, causing Ron to shrink back slightly at her unusually aggressive tone, "Even if they could possibly be a useful insight into the way he operates, it would do more damage than good. Harry could be traumatised for life!"

Harry snorted loudly as Ron gave Hermione an odd look and returned to his scrambled eggs. At Hermione questioning glance he elaborated "I doubt Dumbledore cares about that as long as I kill off Voldemort for him."

"Don't be silly!" Hermione said anxiously "Why on earth would you think that? Dumbledore cares about you Harry!"

"Never mind." Harry said glumly.

The rest of breakfast proceeded in an awkward atmosphere with Harry in silence, pretending he couldn't see his friends exchanging meaningful glances, and Ron shushing Hermione every time she made as if to confront Harry about his words. He had to settle for Hermione staring at him from across the table with patronising sympathy in her eyes.

…ooo000ooo…

"_Why?" Harry asked "Why are you doing this now? And what makes you think, after everything you've done, that you can just ask this from me?"_

_Malfoy didn't drop his hand, and it hung in the air between them, and his grey eyes flicked up to meet Harry's._

"_I heard you have a 'saving-people' thing."_

…ooo000ooo…

Harry leant against the cool dungeon wall and closed his eyes. Around him, his classmates were chattering and laughing in line, waiting for Snape to let them into the classroom. He felt oddly peaceful; the Quidditch tryouts the previous night had gone incredibly well and after an awkward conversation with Ron, they'd played a few games of exploding snap with their dorm mates and Harry was gratified at how easily his friends let him back in, how forgiving they were despite his moody outbursts and sullen silences he'd been inflicting on them recently.

He felt better than he had in a long time.

After much laughter and messing around playing exploding snap (they'd made bets on the outcome of each snap game using Wizard Wheezes products, and Dean had still been sporting a lime green moustache until Professor McGonagall had removed it at breakfast), Harry had retired to bed and had such a good night's sleep that he awoke fifteen minutes early feeling refreshed and cheerful.

Harry wanted nothing more than for the school year to continue in this fashion, he thought happily. He'd felt closer to Dean, Seamus and Neville last night than he had for years and he wondered what he'd been missing out on while he was holed up with Ron and Hermione solving mysteries and getting into danger - although he also had a renewed fondness for Ron too after last night.

This morning, he'd combed his hair, and for the first time since September first, he rubbed some hair wax into it. Recently he'd been waking up late and in such an awful mood that he simply hadn't had the time to take care of his appearance but today … he just felt happy and wanted to feel good about himself, especially with double potions first thing in the day to look forward to.

Busy day-dreaming, he didn't notice the line of students quieting down and begin to shuffle into the dungeon and when Hermione nudged him, he stumbled forward, not wanting to hold up the line.

There were a few giggles as Harry walked in and headed for his usual table with Ron and Hermione and he tried not to smile, and more importantly, not to blush. He should have known he would get _that _kind of attention. However, it was nice to be talked about for something complimentary. The only person who hadn't complimented him today was Hermione and he had a distinct feeling that she thought he was showing off, judging by the disapproving expression on her face.

Snape began lecturing in his usual low, threatening voice, but Harry continued daydreaming.

_Not that she can talk _he thought, casting an eye over Hermione's hair which had been bundled into an untidy bun. It was a small step, but Harry knew Hermione well enough to know that any attempt to tame her hair had some serious motivation behind it.

"Mr Potter." snapped Snape and Harry's eyes jerked to the front of the classroom. Automatically, the Slytherins began to snigger.

"Yes sir?" he answered politely, his heart sinking as he realised his day was not likely to stay pleasant.

"Do you care to explain the basics of the Wolfsbane potion?"

Harry stared back blankly.

"I - I don't know sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape said silkily "I see you haven't even bothered to read through your textbooks in advance. Clearly you are trying to emulate your father in more ways than one." Harry clenched his fists as Snapes eyes travelled over Harry's deliberately mussed hair.

"I'm sorry _sir_. I thought we were here for Defence Against the Dark Arts, not Potions. " Harry replied angrily and Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Yes _Potter,_ I suppose you expect to be awarded points for realising what class you are in!" Snape's nostrils were flaring as he glared down at Harry

"Unfortunately your over inflated ego must be pressing against your brain, causing you to believe that my instructions are not applicable to the _Chosen One_!" Snape snarled "For if you had been listening, you would know that we are reviewing Dark Creatures today, one of the above being werewolves! I would have thought that even you Potter, would know that the primary method of subduing werewolves during the full moon is the Wolfsbane potion! Apparently not only are you now primping yourself up like your arrogant fool of a father, but are displaying his poor brain power too."

Harry's mood changed swiftly from embarrassment to fury.

"Don't, Harry, it's not worth it!" Hermione muttered urgently

"Miss Granger!" Snape snapped, and she jumped "Ten points from Gryffindor, how dare you speak in my class while I am talking."

Hermione bowed her head like a beaten dog and the other Gryffindors merely grimaced resignedly at the loss of twenty points so early on in the lesson. Harry tried to direct his glare at the floor, lest Snape deduct further points.

"As for you Potter…" he turned back to Harry with a sneer, his eyes narrowing as they passed over his face and hair "I don't know what vile substance you've put in your hair but I expect it to be gone by your next potions class. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Snape turned towards the board and Harry dug his fingernails into the desk. How dare Snape do this! How could he talk to Harry in such a clearly unprofessional manner? Did Dumbledore really condone it? It couldn't be right to allow a teacher to randomly dock points from the house of any students he didn't like! He didn't remember Malfoy ever being told off for greasing his hair back when he was in second year!

"Professor?" the word escaped his lips before he had thought through his sudden urge fully.

Snape whirled around "What?" he snapped

"It's wax."

"Excuse me Mr Potter?" The professor's face was blank, his voice low and suspicious.

"In my hair."

"And why," Snape swooped down on him "would you think I would care about the absurd details of your hair care? Ten points from Gryffindor."

"You said you didn't know what was in my hair," Harry continued unrelentingly, ignoring the confused and shocked silence around him "And I thought you might be genuinely interested. I could show you the bottle if you-"

"Enough Potter!" Snape's voice was deadly. "Forty points from Gryffindor, for your irrelevant prattle."

"You're right." Harry sighed, relenting with a rueful smile. "Maybe it would be more appropriate to show you the shampoo."

The class gasped as one and as someone tried to muffle a shocked giggle, Harry felt the thrill of danger as the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He grabbed his wand under the desk just in case and braced himself.

Snape was staring at him, face frozen in fury. Then he spoke, lips barely moving.

"One thousand points from Gryffindor."

The shock was that great that not one person in the class moved.

"And detention, every night for the rest of the term."

…ooo000ooo…

"_What do you mean?" Harry said, beginning to grow angry. Was this a joke? Did Malfoy know the details of why Sirius had died?_

_Draco dropped his hand slightly. "I find that my father's ambitions for my future…aren't quite what I'd imagined."_

_Harry waited._

"_I don't want to be a Death Eater." Malfoy said softly_

…ooo000ooo…

Harry strode briskly down one of Hogwarts' many dark corridors, clutching his invisibility cloak around himself in the dark. He felt irritated and just wanted to be alone.

Since the beginning of term he had thought he had managed to get rid of the worst of his anger, and he had been unprepared for this. A part of him couldn't believe he had picked a fight with Snape, and the rest of him felt enormously gratified.

Snape had unsurprisingly ordered him to leave the classroom, and Harry accordingly had not been to Defence since. It had been three days and he'd received two owls the morning directly after the incident. One had been from Dumbledore, ordering him to his office, the other had been from Snape, detailing his detentions. He had ignored both and was yet to accept either invitation or return to class and had stopped going to meals so as to avoid Dumbledore's continuingly persistent owls. Instead, he used the time to go over Defence theory in a hidden corner of the library, and sneaked food out of the kitchens later. Avoiding Hermione's scolding was a top priority. He felt horrible every time he thought it, but _Merlin was that girl annoying._

Tonight however, he wanted to relax. He wanted the Gryffindor common room badly, just to sink into an armchair in front of the fire and fall asleep to the sound of Hermione's knitting needles clicking. Unfortunately, the reality was that any time spent with Ron and Hermione these days meant fending off concerned questions about his well-being and pretending not to notice the glances they exchanged when they thought he wasn't watching.

He understood that his friends were worried about him, but as time went on, he wanted to open up to them less and less. He just wanted to forget about his summer and let things go back to how they were before.

At first Ron and Hermione had been only concerned with their friend. Now, however he saw resentment in Ron's eyes when he met them, and disapproval in Hermione's.

He was aware that he no longer deserved their understanding after the way he had been treating them, but he couldn't find the will to tell them everything, because he knew they wouldn't understand how he had been feeling since Sirius's death, since Dumbledore sent him to the Dursleys, since Uncle Vernon…

He knew he was being unreasonable about Ron. But after catching those resentful expressions on his face again and again these past days, Harry found himself less and less able to let go and he now found Ron's company irritating.

Harry didn't really know where he was going. He had originally been heading in the direction of the Room of Requirement, hoping it would conjure up a comfortable armchair and a hotly crackling fire and that he could imagine, just for a few hours, that he was in the common room and no one was shooting him odd looks or trying to tell him he was wrong.

But even as he thought about that, he felt anger simmering slowly deep down low, and that made him restless. The adrenaline rush of being rude to Snape had exhilarated him, but the varying anger and depression he had felt afterwards was dreadful, even without Hermione's condemnations.

He didn't want to _forget _this dammit, forgetting meant regretting, and he was sick of sinking to that low. He wanted to stay angry, he wanted to be reckless. He _knew _he was right, Snape shouldn't speak to him like that, Ron and Hermione should stick by him, and Dumbledore shouldn't treat him like a child after he had gone through so many situations where most adults would have died!

He had already saved the wizarding world once, why couldn't that be enough? Why didn't people respect him rather than idolise or manipulate him, or if they couldn't at least do that, why couldn't he just be treated like an ordinary person?

Harry swiftly turned around and headed for the dungeons. They could be terrifying in the dark, and Hermione would disapprove of him wandering there simply because it was Snape territory, and he was therefore more likely to be caught.

He knew it was childish but that thought made him even more determined and reckless. He was at the second floor before he glumly realised that wandering dark slimy corridors would be no better than anywhere else, and once again he stopped, felling frustrated.

He just wanted to _do _something. When he returned to Gryffindor, he would see Ron and Hermione give each other that _look_, the one that meant 'yup, Harry's been sulking', and like every other time it would make him want to punch something.

He wished there was another basilisk around, he'd love to see their expressions if he turned up in the common room with its head under his arm and proclaim that in fact he had saved them all while they had been busy thinking badly of him.

Of course it would have to be a young basilisk, for its head to be light enough to carry - or fit under his arm.

He toyed with they idea of visiting the Chamber of Secrets. He was already near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so he let his feet carry him there. He had nothing else to do anyway. He wasn't seriously considering going in, but he could see if Dumbledore had blocked the tunnel off and perhaps speak to Myrtle if she was there.

He felt pathetic when he realised that he felt almost cheerful at that prospect.

He entered the bathroom, listening cautiously for the usual sobs and moans that Myrtle produced, but was met only with silence.

Looking around, he wondered why he had bothered to come. All he saw was a dingy bathroom, mouldier than most, but then that was to be expected with Myrtle's habit of flooding the place - the floor was sopping wet even now.

The bathroom actually looked smaller than it had in second year, but then he supposed he had been smaller too. It was hard to imagine himself as young-looking as the current Gryffindor second years. He had been twelve, practically a child. It really was amazing, he thought, bending to examine the snake carved into the tap, that he had managed to kill the basilisk. He couldn't imagine any of the second years doing that, they all looked so … young, and defenceless.

_Well no one can say I didn__'__t have an interesting life, _he thought grimly, trying not to get stuck on angry thoughts of Dumbledore again.

He failed miserably, and hissed _open _to the tap, fully expecting it not to move.

He stood and stumbled backwards in surprise when the sinks began to sink silently into the stone floor and formed the opening to the Chamber.

"They just _left _it?" Harry said incredulously, then clapped his hand over his mouth as he realised he had said it aloud. He stopped to listen for footsteps, but no one was nearby. He had to remember that it was after curfew, the last thing he needed was Snape swooping down on him in a girls bathroom.

He left his hand over his mouth though, as confused thoughts whirled through his head.

_Why isn__'__t it closed off? Did he think it didn__'__t matter, that I would be the last Parslemouth?_

"Has anyone been down there since?" he muttered aloud, then stood still, staring down into the tunnel. He wondered whether Dumbledore had found anything else down there, whether there were more rooms still to be explored.

Of course he highly doubted Dumbledore really would have left the chamber as it was - after all, who knew what could be down there - but he hadn't seen fit to let Harry know what he had found, and he was curious now.

"You're being stupid." he muttered to himself, knowing it was true. What the hell was he doing here anyway. He was about to close the entrance and leave when -

"Who's being stupid?" a high pitched voice said, and Harry jumped then slipped, arms flailing, and with a gasp of pain as his shin scraped against stone, fell.

His chin hit the bathroom floor with a crack causing him to bite down on his tongue.

"Myrtle!" he bellowed angrily, spitting blood out of his mouth and scrabbling for a hold on the floor tiles. His shins throbbed painfully. The wet floor had caused him to slide and fall down the hole, grazing his thighs and shins on the edge of the bathroom floor until his feet met the opposite side of the tunnel wall, allowing to brace himself precariously to stop himself slipping.

"Whoops!" Myrtle look pleased with herself "People used to do that to me, you know. Olive Hornby would creep up behind me and shout things to make me get a fright. I never fell that spectacularly though, and I wasn't even trying to scare you!"

"Would you just give me a hand!" Harry yelled. He was almost fully inside the tunnel, but most of his torso was still above ground and he was having trouble finding something to grip on to pull himself up.

"How am I supposed to do that?" Myrtle's eyes filled with tears "I'm _dead_, in case you forgot! Of course you forgot," her voice turned nasty "no one remembers poor Myrtle!"

Harry ignored her and tried moving his foot to push himself up, only for his other foot to slip down as soon as he moved it.

"Shit Myrtle I'm slipping! Get a professor!"

Harry could feel himself going, millimetre by millimetre, but Myrtle only continued moaning and whining.

"MYRTLE!"

"You know," she swooped down close to his face "if you die down there _this _time, I still would like for you to share my toilet."

She blew him a kiss before he fell.

15


	6. Chapter 5

Harry felt a mounting fear as he slid down the winding tunnel. He was alone this time, and no one knew he was here.

He bumped his head painfully a few times as he slid, his body much bigger and more clumsy than last time. At any moment, he expected to land in that nasty pile of animal bones, but in case there_ was _something down there, he had to think swiftly.

Well, he thought desperately, he could summon his broom, try levitating himself out, or even try calling for Fawkes. But the only thing that was likely to work was summoning his Firebolt, and even that would take too long if there was something waiting there.

_Stop that_! He ordered himself, as he bumped and slid swiftly down the slimy pipe. This was not the time for panicking, there was no reason why something should be _waiting _for him, and in any case he couldn't see Dumbledore just leaving the Chamber here to be opened without checking it first.

He felt a quiver of unease, but then surely Dumbledore would at least -

_WHUMPH_

He had arrived in the Chamber.

Pulling out his wand, he muttered 'lumos' before doing anything else. Sure enough, he was in the same pile of bones he had landed in four years ago. He could even see the rock fall up ahead that had separated him from Ron and Lockhart.

He kept still, taking in his surroundings and listening carefully. He could hear nothing but a steady _drip drip drip _from somewhere nearby, and he could only see that the bones scattered on the ground faded into the gloom the further he looked beyond his wand light, but he knew there were wet, black walls nearby.

He couldn't see anything else, though he strained his eyes in the direction of the main chamber, more curious than afraid. Was the body of the basilisk still there? Were there other secret rooms.

Shaking his head angrily at himself he lifted his wand again and summoned his broom. Curiosity was what had got him down here and he wasn't about to do anything else stupid.

He sat down cautiously and silently to wait, making himself keep still and quiet, just in case. After all, there was no point in tempting fate - he had done enough of that tonight.

For a minute or so all was silent, but he suddenly stiffened as he heard something small rustle nearby.

Just a rat or something, he told himself, and let himself relax slowly, but made sure he kept alert, scanning the shadows, and looking behind him every now and again to make sure nothing was creeping up on him.

"_Who are you?_" a small, feminine voice said, and Harry's heart stopped as he leapt to his feet semi-automatically, he raised his wand, then froze when he saw nobody near him, despite the voice sounding no more than a few feet away.

"Who's there?" he whispered roughly, raising his wand, scattering countless rat skulls every time he moved his feet.

In reply he heard only a wordless noise of fear and more rustling.

He saw a small pile of bones moving, as if being pushed out of the way, and relaxed where he saw what it was.

A tiny snake, no longer than his index finger was slithering away as fast as it could over the sharp animal bones.

"_It__'__s okay I won__'__t hurt you!__"_he hissed, automatically switching to parseltoungue as his eyes focussed on the tiny snake, so clearly terrified that it would have been quivering had it been a mammal.

Immediately it stopped trying to escape.

"_But I__'__m frightened. I haven__'__t seen anything like you before. What are you, and have you seen my mother?__"_

Despite being a Parselmouth, Harry had never felt a particular affinity with snakes, but the tiny voice and the pathetically small size of this one had his heart contracting with pity.

"_I__'__m a human.__"_he replied _"__And if you__'__ve only ever been down here, then it__'__s no wonder you haven__'__t seen anyone like me before. I haven__'__t seen your mother, no.__"_

"_I__'__m frightened.__"_the little snake moved close _"__And you are warm. May I warm myself on you?__"_

"_Yes.__"_Harry hissed, then paused _"__I wouldn__'__t let anything hurt you.__"_

He felt sorry for it, having to live down here in the dark.

"_I have been hungry and alone for too long. I think I will die soon.__"_

Harry looked at the snake worriedly as it curled around his middle and forefinger. _Poor thing._

"_Are you newly hatched?__"_he asked. She was so tiny. He wondered if the mother had perhaps been killed before her eggs had hatched.

"_Yes, I woke up with my brothers and sisters, but mother never came. I am alone now.__"_

Harry knew she was only a snake, but he felt the sorrow in her as she told him this and felt terrible on her behalf.

"_How long has it been since you hatched?__"_

"_Too long. I think I will die soon, my siblings could not sustain me for long.__"_

"_You ate your brothers and sisters?__"_he hissed incredulously, then wished he hadn't said it in that manner.

But the little snake didn't seem to notice his tone._"__Yes, but some of them ate each other, and by the time I had to eat them, there was only two left. I am hungry.__"_

Her voice was matter of fact, but she still seemed upset at the loss of her siblings so Harry assumed that she saw eating her family as an inevitable part of life. _And I thought my life was bad__…_he thought humourlessly

At that moment Harry felt the air stir behind him, and his Firebolt arrived shortly afterward. He had almost forgotten about it after the distraction of finding a snake.

"_What is that?__"_

"_It__'__s my broom. I__'__m going to use it to get out of here. Do you want to come?__"_he offered hopefully. He wondered at never having bothered to speak to snakes before, it was a rare opportunity that most people wouldn't ever experience, and he was intrigued by the experience, and more than a little apprehensive of leaving this tiny snake alone in the dark again.

"_Will there be food? I don__'__t want to die and there is nothing here small enough for me to capture. Mother should have fed us, but she did not come.__"_

Her voice was sad, and Harry wanted to tell her that he was sure her mother cared for her and only didn't come back because she wasn't able to, but he didn't think it would be helpful to point out that she was probably dead.

"_I will feed you, if you want.__"_

"_Then yes, I will come.__"_

When he arrived back in the bathroom, Myrtle was nowhere to be seen, so Harry closed the entrance to the tunnel, vanished the dirt and slime from his clothes, and after donning his invisibility cloak again, he began hurrying towards the kitchens.

At one point he had to stop and wait in an alcove as Filch shuffled past, but other than that his journey to the kitchens was uninterrupted. He tickled the pear in the painting of the bowl of fruit, and was unsurprised when it opened to reveal hundreds of bustling house elves, going about their business, even so late at night.

An elf immediately approached him and he asked for a selection of raw meat, finely diced.

He sat his Firebolt against the wall and settled down to wait, then realised his mistake as the elf reappeared balancing several heaped plates of diced chicken, pork, and beef.

Rather than saying anything that would make the elf's ears droop however, he merely smiled and accepted the plates.

"_What one do you-?__"_he began, but the little snake had already made its way onto one of the plates. He watched her eat, and was amused when she returned to him after eating a miniscule amount of what was to her, a mountain of meat.

"_I would like to come here again soon.__"_she hissed, and slithered onto his hand with an untranslatable hiss which amounted to a sigh of satisfaction. He watched her coiling through his fingers with fascination. He had never seen anything so small, yet so beautiful.

"_I will, next time you are hungry.__"_he replied, then began to examine the tiny serpent. She was a brilliant silvery-green, a Slytherin snake if he ever saw one. Her head was a triangular shape, less pointed than Harry would have expected, and she had odd, frill-like shapes behind her neck, which protruded very slightly. Harry hadn't seen many snakes before, but he imagined that when she was frightened she would flare out the frills, much like an exotic species of lizard. He couldn't get over how perfectly formed she was when she was so tiny that he had to squint to see the frills.

"_You are the smallest snake I have ever seen__…__so delicate.__"_

"_I cannot grow without feeding, but one day I will be bigger. Will that please you?__"_

Harry felt for a moment like a parent whose child was eager to impress him, and smiled softly at her as he pulled his invisibility cloak over himself and began to make his way out of the kitchen. He felt as if she had warmed to him considerably after feeding.

"_I like you the way you are, although it would be nice if you were able to curl around my wrist.__"_

"_If it would please you, I would grow large enough wrap around all of you, or even many of you.__"_

Harry couldn't help laughing. "_I wouldn__'__t be able to carry you around then.__"_

"_Then I will not grow too large.__"_

…ooo000ooo…

_You don't have to be my friend to not be a Death Eater." Harry said_

_A hint of Malfoy__'__s usual arrogance appeared on his pale face. __"__I__'__m not making _friends_, Potter! I need help, and you have a reputation for protecting people with a previous bad reputation -__"_

…ooo000ooo…

Harry fidgeted all the way through classes the next day, and sighed with relief when it came to the time for DADA meaning he could skive off class and check on his new friend.

He had tried to put her down on the floor before he went to bed, not wanting to crush her as he slept, but she had protested that she did not want to be alone and had wished for a mother to sleep beside for so long.

"_I__'__m not your mother! Call me Harry!__"_he had protested in embarrassment , but he had allowed her to sleep with him, because after all, it was a cold night.

The next morning he had went through the same argument, but this time he didn't back down. He couldn't go to class with her around his thumb, there was no doubt someone would see her, and he wouldn't take her in his pocket in case she got crushed or fell out and got lost. After a whispered argument whilst the other boys in the dormitory got dressed, Harry left her curled under the hot water pipe in the bathroom.

He was worried that she would wander off somewhere and get lost, so when transfiguration was over, he mindlessly began to hurry back the wrong way down the corridor, forgetting about being discreet.

"Harry!"

He cursed himself and kept walking, ignoring Hermione.

"Harry! You can't miss class again!" she was beside him now, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

"Go away Hermione." he snapped, and kept walking, but so did she.

"Harry, you're going to be in serious trouble!" she pleaded, tugging on his arm until he stopped. He tried not to notice how pinched and worried her face was, he didn't want to feel bad. "Please, if you won't just come to class, speak to Dumbledore about this before it gets worse!"

"If I say I'll think about it, will you leave me alone?" he said harshly, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she lowered her voice "You'd never have said things like this before."

Inevitably, Harry now felt guilty. She was right, he was being unreasonably cruel. He just felt angry that his only friend right now was a snake, and he didn't want to show her to Ron and Hermione because they wouldn't like her. Ron would see her as some sort of dark or Slytherin symbol, and Hermione would probably be a little frightened of having a snake around, but hide it behind lecturing him about snakes being dangerous and against school rules for hours on end. In fact, the only person he could think of who would approve of his new friend was Malfoy, and he definitely didn't want to expose her to _him_.

"Look I'm sorry, okay?" he took her hand off his arm and held it for a moment, and she looked hopefully up at him. "But I'm not going back to class, I'm just not. And I need time to myself right now, okay? You and Ron are great, but at the moment I feel like you're crowding me and telling me what to do. I just need space."

He let her hand go, and walked away before she could protest.

Several hours later, after having checked on his snake after almost every class since he'd argued with Hermione, Harry once again sought out his new pet for company. Seamus and Dean were playing a raucous game of Gobstones in the dormitory, and he couldn't take a snake into the common room, so once again Harry exiled himself to the corridors. It wasn't past curfew yet, so he kept his invisibility cloak in his pocket, and cautiously made his way upstairs, talking to the snake as he kept watch for other people.

"_Do you have a name?__"_

"_No.__"_

"_Would you like a name?__"_

"_I would, if that is what you want.__"_

"_What names do you like?__"_

"_I like Harry.__"_Harry snorted

"_You can__'__t have the same name as me. Is there something else you would like to be called?__"_

"_I would like you to call me cunning and beautiful.__"_Harry laughed again, unable to help himself. He just hoped no one was watching him or they would think he was mad.

"_You are cunning and beautiful - but I meant what name do you want to be called.__"_

"_I do not know any.__"_

Harry thought for a moment. _"__Well, here are some names. Tell me what you like the sound of.__"_

"_I will listen.__"_

"_Draco -__"_Harry stopped, wondering why he had said that first. The least thing he wanted to do was have to go around the castle calling for Draco when he lost his pet.

"_That is a good name.__"_

"_Listen to all of them first!__"_Harry said hurriedly _"__Hermione, Ron, Albus, Bill ,Fleur, Neville, Severus, Minerva, Parvati, Lavender, Padma__…__.__"_

"_Severus sounds like me.__"_

"_What?__"_Harry mentally groaned. He was not naming his snake after Snape.

"_It sounds like a snake name. Ssseveruss.__"_

"_How about something like Sssalazarr?__"_Harry imitated her hissing tone in an effort to persuade her. He wasn't keen on Salazar either, but anything was better than Snape.

"_It is good.__"_

"_Do you want that name?__"_he breathed a sigh of relief

"_If you wish me to. But I prefer Sseverusssssss.__"_she said it with relish.

"_But that__'__s a male name, I should name you something good for a female snake.__"_

The snake remained silent, waiting for him to decide, and Harry took care not to speak aloud as he went through names, lest she pick something more unfortunate.

_Severa.. Severia. Serevra. Sesseras. Serressas. Severissa. Serissa._ Harry almost went on to a name that sounded too close to Sirius for his liking, so he stopped to relay the names he had made up so far to his pet.

"_Serissa is good.__"_

Harry sighed with relief. _"__Serissa it is then.__"_

He watched her thread through his fingers as he walked absentmindedly up more stairs, then wondered where he was going tonight. He wanted to go back to the common room and nap in the armchair nearest to the fire while Serissa played around his fingers like this, but he didn't want to be around the other Gryffindors.

He was interrupted from his thinking by nearing footsteps, and Harry ducked into an alcove until Professor Vector had passed; he wasn't sure if it was past curfew yet. He checked his watch and found that he should have been in his dormitory ten minutes ago, and so he pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and continued up the stairs with more purpose.

When Harry finally reached the seventh floor corridor, he frowned at the wooden door which was right where the stretch of empty wall that was where the Room of Requirement should be. This could only mean that someone was inside. He frowned at the door for a moment, then reached out a hand to open it. Then he stopped. He wanted to be alone, and it was clear that there was someone inside the Room. Why waste his time investigating?

He stared at the door for another moment, then uncertainly reached for the handle. After another month of thought, he rolled his eyes in exasperation and opened it a crack.

Loud music burst into the corridor, and Harry jumped back, pulling the door shut hurriedly, glancing around for Filch.

_What was that?_

Serissa echoed his thoughts, sounding excited.

"_You would be slithering in the opposite direction if I wasn__'__t with you.__"_Harry reminded her

"_But you are with me, and you will protect me, and so I want to see what that is.__"_

Harry shook his head, tried not to laugh at her inquisitiveness, and attempted to think about what the noise was. He hadn't heard much wizarding music; he'd heard Celestina Warbeck at the Weasley's house and the Weird Sisters at the Yule Ball. The music that had nearly ruptured his eardrum sounded closer to the latter.

He continued to stand, thinking with his hand on the door handle. He couldn't open the door too many times or Filch would come running, or he might alert whoever was inside to his presence. So either he had to enter the room to find out what was going on in there, or he had to give up and find somewhere else to relax. Harry thought furiously, trying to bear in mind all the regretful situations that his curiosity had led him in the past…

Less than a minute later, Harry was surveying the scene before him in disbelief from behind a pillar inside the Room of Requirement.


	7. Chapter 6

The Room itself looked like nothing more than a very large classroom, divided into sections by columns. However the addition of a gramophone with an oversized trumpet, dim lighting and numerous armchairs and beanbags, not to mention a great number of people had Harry gob smacked.

It was a party.

Hastily planned and put together; a space intended solely for getting drunk in by the look of the sparsely furnished room, but a party nonetheless.

Harry remained still and merely observed his surroundings. Less than six feet away Draco Malfoy (wearing leather trousers no less!) had a girl that most certainly was not Pansy Parkinson pressed up against a wall. For a moment he stared, oddly transfixed, then he came to himself and hurriedly shuddered and stepped away. He let his eyes pass onto a group of girls in very revealing outfits, clutching glasses of firewhisky and giggling loudly together. In fact, Harry realised as his eyes moved from group to group, everyone here seemed to have an alcoholic drink of some kind in their hands, and when a cheer went up from the opposite side of the room he saw that beside the gang of boys playing drinking games there, there was a long wooden table almost overflowing with colourful bottles.

After thinking for a moment, Harry sidled up to the table and grabbed a bottle at random then ducked back into the shadows, glancing around before examining it. The bottle had been one of the few that was still sealed and although unlabelled contained an electric violet coloured liquid which smelled like sherbet. He started to raise it to his lips before he was jolted violently from behind and the bottle smashed painfully into his teeth with a loud _crack_. The sharp pain however, was worth it when Harry laid eyes on its cause: Draco Malfoy, now inebriated to the point where he was unable to distinguish people from walls (apparently the reason he had thrown his date against Harry) was staggering around drunkenly as his date stalked off in disgust. Harry couldn't help snorting with laughter (albeit whilst clutching his mouth in pain) as Malfoy peered woozily around him in confusion.

"Cordelia?" he slurred, then his eyes rested on Harry who half spat out the gulp of his drink he had been taking at Malfoy's next words. " 'Ello darling-"

"Sorry Malfoy," Harry said, alarmed "wrong person."

"_Harry?__"_Malfoy's eyes widened as he swayed on the spot "Harry, you can't be here."

Since when had Malfoy called him Harry?

"Er - I just sort of wandered in…"

"Well _hide_!" Draco urged

"I'll be fine." Harry reassured him, looking around with interest.

"No, listen, I'm serious!" Malfoy grabbed his arm, his voice suddenly less slurred "change your hair colour at least, you're not a Slytherin, they'll set Crabbe and Goyle on you if they see you."

Harry searched Malfoy's earnest face. What did he mean by that? Weren't Crabbe and Goyle _his _goons?

Eventually he shrugged and raised his wand, changing his hair back to its mousy brown of the summer. He did the same with his eyes.

"Draco?" Harry heard Pansy Parkinsons voice call from somewhere nearby, and Draco looked around in alarm.

"Sure you won't go?" Malfoy asked again, his voice slurring slightly, then backed away shaking his head regretfully "Ah well. Better go before Pansy - eek!"

Harry watched as Malfoy escaped his girlfriend by the skin of his teeth. Pansy scowled as her arms closed on thin air and Harry turned away so he wouldn't be seen.

_Can I go into your pocket?__"_Serissa interrupted as Harry settled down into a chair, drinking another mouthful out of his bottle. The alcohol had a pleasantly fizzing texture in his mouth and tasted very sweet and sticky. If he was about to be ousted from the party by Crabbe and Goyle, he decided, he should try and take this with him.

"_Harry! I want to go inside your pocket! I do not like how you are beginning to smell, and this place has ugly lights.__"_

Harry felt bad at the irritation in her voice; how long had he been ignoring her? He obligingly shoved his hand in his pocket and she crawled off.

His drink was gone in a surprisingly short time and the colour changing lights were beginning to make his head spin pleasantly. He felt comfortable, like he was sinking into his chair. Lazily he reached for the nearest full glass on the table beside him, a slightly steaming orange concoction in a used glass.

He nearly missed it and spilt it on the floor. For a moment he frowned, eyeing his empty purple bottle suspiciously and assessed how he was feeling. He didn't _feel _drunk - not that he had any experience with it - but he didn't really feel _right _either. He raised the glass to his mouth with a shrug.

He glanced around him and spotted Malfoy gyrating against Pansy in the centre of the room. He certainly didn't look so hostile towards her as he had a moment ago.

_Hermione would have a fit if she saw where I was__…_Harry thought dreamily

After a while, Harry took to wandering through the crowd of semi-familiar faces, his whole body buzzing with a sort of sleepy warmth, combined with a zing of almost electric static. He felt like he was floating along in a haze. Every now and again, a new drink would appear on a nearby table, and he found himself picking it up without a thought. Eventually, he found himself in a comfortable bean bag, and acknowledged blearily that Blaise Zabini had settled into a nearby armchair with a girl on his lap.

He watched the rest of the party goers. He watched Draco Malfoy flit from one girl to another. Or at least Harry thought he did, all he could see was a blond blurry figure who started off with a sort of drunken swagger, and eventually left the room accompanied by Crabbe, Goyle and two girls and staggering so badly that he ended up being half carried by Millicent Bulstrode.

After Malfoy left, Harry became transfixed by another blonde. A girl he vaguely remembered as Daphne Greengrass, a sixth year, but usually so quiet he'd never really noticed her before. She was dancing, twisting and swaying on the dance floor, her hair swishing through the air, accompanied sometimes by a boy, and at other times a younger girl who looked so similar that Harry decided she must be her sister. In Harry's inebriated state he could barely take his eyes off the rhythmic movement. He drank some more of his drink and settled down to watch her until she became a blurry blob and eventually faded away in the direction of the door.

He drank some more.

Harry stared in fascination at the writhing blobs on the armchair. Was that Pansy Parkinson that Blaise was with? He didn't realise he was staring until Zabini lobbed a paper cup at his head. Well at least the colour changing spells on his hair and eyes meant he wouldn't be recognised.

He turned back to watch the other partygoers, and felt his eyes drift closed as beat of the music swirled pleasantly around him.

"Potter?"

Harry groaned and rolled over, bringing up his arms to cover his head.

Why was his bed so _hard_?

"Potter, wake up!"

Was that _Malfoy?_

Harry opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. Bright sunlight hit him like a rusty spade to the head, accompanied by a wave of nausea.

"Shut up and drink this." he heard Malfoy snap as he groaned, and he felt a glass bottle being pressed into his hand.

"I'm not stupid enough to drink anything _you _offer me -" he said blearily

"Yeah? Just the rest of my house then?" Malfoy retorted "What was _wrong with_ you last night? Besides, its just a hangover potion."

Harry opened his eyes a slit to examine the bottle, then started as he heard voices nearby.

"Potter, hurry you need to put on your glamour!" Malfoy said, glancing in the direction of the voices and pushing the bottle at him.

Harry jolted upright, running his hands over his face even though he knew that glamours couldn't be felt.

"Shit!" he muttered, then throwing caution to he winds, grabbed the bottle and took a gulp.

"Just one will do." Malfoy muttered, and Harry forced the potion down, looking up at Malfoy as he felt the effects begin to take place.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry said, his voice growing clearer

"So that you'll think about helping me when I'm in a mess." Malfoy said, glancing up at Harry through his hair. "I haven't given up."

Harry watched him guiltily as he stood up and threw his satchel over his shoulder, and pushing his blond hair out of his face.

"I never really said no." Harry said awkwardly from the ground.

"You have an odd idea of shaking a hand then, Potter." Malfoy said, as he straightened his tie without looking at him and turned and looked away.

Custard wafer." Harry muttered and the fat lady's portrait swung forward to admit him. He stepped through into the common room as quietly as he could, but he could already hear Ron and Hermione among the voices of Gryffindors who'd gotten up for breakfast early.

He craned his neck to see if they were close, hoping to avoid a confrontation if possible and noted that Hermione was standing with Ron and Ginny at a nearby table. Unfortunately as he began to move in the direction of the dormitories, he kicked the leg of a chair rather hard by accident and it skittered across the floor until it hit a rug and then fell over with a clatter.

"Harry!" Hermione whirled around at the sound and advanced on him immediately, her hair flapping wildly behind her. "Where have you _been_? Ron told me your bed hasn't been slept in-" Ron stared guiltily at the floor as he too stepped forward "and we were _worried _about you!"

"Sorry." Harry mumbled, and tried to shuffle past. Despite the hangover potion he didn't exactly feel fresh as a daisy, and in the back of his mind a small voice was panicking about exactly how much of a fool he had made of himself last night. In front of _Malfoy _of all people. Not that _he _was likely to remember. He should be more worried about everyone else, because it seemed too much to hope that they were all too drunk to notice a bruised and scarred Harry Potter was lying unconscious in their midst. What had he been thinking?

"No Harry! I'm serious! _Where have you been_-?" Hermione made as if to block his way, then froze, eyes narrowing.

"Have you been drinking?" She sniffed the air around his face suspiciously.

"What? No!" he protested feebly, and saw Ron frown.

"Harry you don't drink," his friend said uncertainly

"You stink of alcohol!" Hermione burst out, looking furious.

"Harry mate…if you're depressed, this isn't the way to deal with it." Ron said uncomfortably, stepping forward and Hermione's features softened. Apparently this had not occurred to her. Harry, unwilling to pursue the path that the conversation had taken decided to tell the truth.

"I wasn't drinking because of that! I was at a party!" he snapped, hoping they would back off. Instead Hermione looked shocked and worried, and Ron looked hurt. Harry stifled the twinge of guilt in his stomach.

"Harry…" Hermione began, then stopped, looking very upset. "Harry - I wish you would be our friend again."

"I am your friend." Harry said slowly, hoping they weren't going to demand an apology for his actions, or worse a long heart-to-heart about his feelings. He just wanted a nap before breakfast…

"It's just…" Hermione hesitated "We feel like we don't know you anymore!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this!" she waved a hand at him and he looked down at his new clothes which he had been as he slept on the armchair all night. His jeans looked fine but his t-shirt was very creased and crumpled and he self consciously tried to pull it straight as he spoke. He didn't look _that _bad, in fact he was sure he had a fairly decent 'just rolled out of bed' look - and in a good way.

"I'm going to get changed anyway, what does it matter if my clothes are wrinkled?"

"I meant the clothes themselves Harry, not how they look!" Hermione said exasperatedly "When did you get them?"

"Er - yeah, I bought myself some new clothes earlier this summer. I thought you'd noticed before. Why is that…a problem?" he said the last word uncertainly. He had no idea where Hermione was going with this.

"We _did _notice and it's not a problem, Harry." Hermione sighed "But really - it's not you. You never used to wear things like this."

"What, new clothes?" Harry said, feeling miffed "Did you expect me to keep wearing Dudley's old crap for the rest of my life? It's not like I can't afford to wear new things for once!"

"But do you have to flaunt it so much?" Ron cut in, his voice carefully neutral.

Harry stared at him.

"How much did those cost you? Dean says they would have cost a bomb from muggle shops, and I just don't understand why you would want to show off your … wealth. You never used to before." Ron looked away as the tone of his voice turned into something more unpleasant.

Harry felt heat rising in his face. He couldn't believe that Ron, who had everything Harry wanted, a big family who loved him, no impending fatal destiny, and most of all a life with the opportunity to last more than the next couple of years, was still holding this grudge over his wealth.

"I understand about the contact lenses," Hermione continued "I mean, it must make it easier to play quidditch, but along with that _hair__…"_her nose wrinkled slightly in distaste "It just looks like you're trying to look good. As if you're trying to fit the hero image."

"And what's wrong with wanting to look good?" Harry snapped, again feeling self conscious, this time because of the state his hair must be in, "And isn't that what people want? For me to look like a hero? So they can believe that I can _save the world _more easily? So they can overlook the fact that I'm just some scruffy kid?!"

"Oh Harry!" Hermione said sympathetically, not getting it at all "You don't have to prove anything to anyone! And dressing up like this won't make a difference to your real friends - Ron and I will always believe in you, and we _know _you can do it!"

"And what if I want to look good, just for me?" Harry said angrily "What if I _want _girls to like the way I look, what if I'm doing this so that _I _can feel good about myself!"

There was a pause, and Ron an Hermione exchanged glances.

"The Harry I knew didn't care about looks." Hermione said finally "What changed?"

"Oh I don't know!" Harry snapped "Can't I change? Maybe I grew a backbone and realised that I could control my own life, that I don't have to do anything I don't want that there was no reason why I should ever have had to sleep in a cupboard! Maybe I've realised that I have a bank vault the size of bloody Hogwarts and I'm able to actually do what I want with my money!"

"You slept in a cupboard-?" Hermione began uncertainly, but was cut off by Ron.

"So what?" Ron snapped "Now you've decided to turn into bloody Malfoy and start boasting about being rich, what's next?"

Harry turned to look at his friend and saw open jealousy and anger in his eyes. He felt a rush of fury.

"What's next, Ron?" He hissed "Well, what happens next is my friends turn against me, isn't that right?"

"Harry-"

"Shut up, Hermione." he said and she clapped a hand to her mouth.

"How dare-!" Ron shouted

"SHUT UP!" Harry screamed and suddenly the entire common room fell into silence and Harry felt all eyes on him.

"That's right, Hermione." he said quietly, his voice forcedly calm. "I'm taking pride in my appearance just because I can. I don't care about what you, or Ron think, because I'm doing this for ME. For the first time in my life, I'm doing something for me. And If I want to spend hundred of galleons doing it," he turned to Ron "then I bloody well will."

"You selfish, arrogant prick!" Ron yelled

"Why?" Harry asked simply, ignoring his stomach churning and not just because he was angry.

"You - you-" Ron spluttered "-think it's okay to waste all that money and you treat us like we don't matter anymore!"

"Yes Ron." Harry spoke calmly "I want to live my life while I still can, and if you're holding me back because you're jealous of the only thing my parents left me - money, then clearly you don't care about me at all. If I could swap lives I would, and then you could watch everyone you care about drop dead to protect you, and while you're doing that, I'd enjoy having brothers and a sister and parents and find time to whine about not having fame or money."

The silence in the common room was oppressive, and Harry didn't drop Ron's eyes. He plunged his hand into his pocket and Ron flinched. Harry wondered if he'd thought he was going to pull out his wand and hex him. Instead he held a fist full of galleons.

"Seeing as how money is more important to you than having a family, or sticking by your friends, I think this should be enough compensation for losing me."

He flung the galleons to the floor at Ron's feet and then stormed up the stairs to the dormitory.

9


	8. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't make money from writing about Harry Potter, who only belongs to JK Rowling, not me._

"_You smell bad." _

Harry removed Serissa from his jeans pocket and set her on the floor so that he could shower. He was beyond thankful that he had someone to talk to still, but that didn't mean he had to talk to her now.

Luckily she was in a huff with him too, so she didn't break the silence.

When he finally ventured down to the Great Hall for breakfast, it was packed. Ron and Hermione were sitting with Neville at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the door and when he entered, Ron gave him such a scathing glare that despite his continual assertion to himself that he didn't care what his friends though of him, he stumbled to a halt.

"Morning Potter!" a familiar voice rung out behind him and he turned to find Malfoy nodding at him, his expression still a little queasy.

_Ha! So I wasn__'__t the only one who made a fool of myself last night, _Harry thought smugly.

"Morning." Harry replied, turning back to the Gryffindor table in time to see Seamus and Dean being ushered into the only free seats on the nearest section of the table. It looked like he'd have to sit with the third years…

"Great party, wasn't it?" Draco called

Harry ignored him and turned around as he heard the gasps of shock behind him. At the table, his fellow classmates were all staring at him with similar expressions of shock (Hermione's was particularly horrified) and dawning betrayal.

"Malfoy shut it!" Harry hissed

"Sorry! Am I shouting?" Malfoy whispered dramatically "I may have been drinking. Want to have breakfast with us instead? Gryffindors are so stupid." he nodded at Harry's outraged housemates

"Again?" Harry stared at him in shock "It's only been a few hours!"

"Just a morning pick-me-up." Malfoy said, then leaned in to whisper confidentially "Hair of the dog and all."

"You've got drunk again since you woke me up?" Harry muttered, looking him up and down, appalled. Draco did look worse for wear; his eyes were red and bloodshot and his hair was sitting wrong some how.

"'s nothing." Malfoy shrugged "Coming to sit with me?"

"I'm fine." Harry whispered urgently, trying to shoo him away, but Malfoy ignored him.

"Oh come on," he drawled loudly "its obvious you don't want to talk to that lot. Coming?"

Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment, whose eyes for once were devoid of hostility. Guarded, yes, and a bit intoxicated, but it was strange having those grey eyes looking at him without a hint of a sneer.

Malfoy's lips started to tighten, and Harry knew he'd have to decide before the offer was retracted.

He took a last look at the accusatory faces on his own table, grabbed a plate of toast, then started walking, grabbing Malfoy's elbow.

"Outside."

Once in the entrance hall, Harry practically had to jog to keep up with Malfoy.

"I thought now would be a good time to talk again." he called after him.

Malfoy stopped once they were both outside.

"Do you ever do anything without the whole school gossiping about you?" Malfoy said, snagging a piece of Harry's toast

"What?" Harry replied angrily

"Don't tell me you didn't see everyone in the hall gawking at you!"

"I've gotten used to it." Harry said stiffly

"Really?" Malfoy replied, curling his lip "Well, I suppose that as long as you don't do anything they disapprove of you manage alright. The golden boy is public property after all."

"What the fuck are you getting at Malfoy?" Harry said testily

"Nothing." the Slytherin shrugged "Just making conversation." he smirked "Although you should watch your language if you don't want to get in any more trouble with Dumbledore. Ugh." he said suddenly, clutching his stomach. "I don't feel that great."

"What do you mean 'more trouble'?" Harry asked curiously, moving away from Malfoy who looked rather whey-faced now.

"Well if the look on his face was anything to go by, he doesn't like you going off with me one jot. Start swearing and he'll be having strong words with you, I suspect!" Malfoy sniggered, then hiccoughed, pulling a face and clutching his stomach. He tried to put his toast back on Harry's plate, but Harry stepped backwards, so he chucked it in a hedge.

"It's not up to him who I sit with-"

"What about your friends? They looked like they were on old Dumby's side completely-" he cocked a pale eyebrow

"Shut up Malfoy! They care about me, that's all!"

"Right. Which is why they were so pissed at you for having some fun at a friend's party." he said sceptically

"Friend!" Harry snorted "They were worried because you _aren__'__t _my friend, I hate you, and I shouldn't be going to parties with you!"

"Then why did you?"

"I got there by accident, I didn't know there was a party in that room."

"Then you should have left." Malfoy said, and Harry glared at him. "But you didn't. You enjoyed yourself in a thoroughly non-Gryffindor friendly way. Which means that you're getting tired of doing what your friends and Dumbledore think is 'appropriate'." He'd started talking loudly again.

"Stop trying to analyse me Malfoy! I don't have to listen to this crap!" Harry turned to go, but Malfoy grabbed his shoulder,

"Get off-!"

"I want to speak to you!"

"Well I'd rather hear another time, preferably when you don't look like you're about to chuck up on me."

"You won't listen now?"

"No."

There was a moment of silence where Malfoy simply stared at him, his eyes dead, and Harry felt concerned. He knew Malfoy had a hangover, but those dark rings under his eyes looked as if they had been there much longer and he looked ill now, but he'd been looking pasty for some time, Harry had noticed. He began to wonder what the best way to go about asking Malfoy if he was alright was, when Draco interrupted his thoughts.

"Fine."

"What?"

"Fine. As long as we can talk soon."

"Okay." Harry said slowly "When?"

"Tomorrow." Malfoy looked tired and turned away. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

…ooo000ooo…

Hermione threw down her quill, unable to concentrate anymore.

"Ron, we have to talk to him!"

"Talk to him then. It's no concern of mine." Ron glared at his transfiguration homework.

He'd thought that he and Hermione were in agreement for once. That Harry had Gone Too Far. He could never forgive Harry for the incident with the Galleons. He'd felt humiliated in front of all the Gryffindors. Was it his fault he was poor? Harry had been an utter prick, he never thought he'd see him do something like that. And he'd been too proud to even admit that he'd been too drunk to think sensibly and had ended up at a Slytherin party, and then tried to deny it _and _make them believe he'd had a good time! And then just to spite his friends, he'd went and tried to act all chummy with Malfoy.

Harry had not only Gone Too Far, but he'd made a fool of himself and everyone knew it. Harry must know it too.

_And good riddance! _

"How can you say its no concern of yours!" Hermione snapped "Ron, I felt just as offended as you, but Harry took everything we said the wrong way! Yes maybe he should have listened properly instead of jumping to conclusions, but we know he's not been right recently. And it didn't help you had to bring up his money."

"Bring up his-" Ron exploded "Hermione! He's flaunting his money without a care as to how I feel-!" he struggled to lower his voice. Mere hours ago, Hermione had been in tears because of Harry and now she wanted to be friends again? He didn't understand, _friends_ didn't treat each other the way Harry had treated them!

"It's his money, Ron and he has a right to buy what he wants with it, the same as you would if it was yours. He didn't mean to talk about his wealth like that, he was upset!" Hermione's voice was calm but Ron could tell she hadn't completely recovered from the argument.

"And we have to put up with his crap?"

Hermione tried not to burst into tears or scream at Ron's tone. She hated being at odds with Harry - it had never happened before, and the only thing stopping their friendship from mending was Ron. What he didn't seem to understand was that this time Harry might not want them back and if she didn't get Ron back on side fast enough…

"Yes Ron, we do. That's what friends are for. Harry is depressed enough to drink, and to act completely … awful right now. He's not our Harry at all. _That__'__s _how bad this is. He doesn't realise he's being awful - he probably thinks _we__'__re _being awful to him, and he might not forgive us."

"How have we been awful?" Ron demanded "We haven't! He's just - he's gone too far this time-" He was fuming. He just felt so angry, too angry to think straight. Which meant he probably _wasn__'__t _thinking straight, but he didn't care.

"This time? Ron, he's never been like this before!"

"He's been like this since the beginning of term-!"

"Yes, it's only recent! He hasn't got over Sirius's -"

"Don't tell me that makes this alright Hermione, because it doesn't! He's hanging around with Slytherins now for Merlin's sake!"

"And that's how desperate he is to find someone to understand!" Hermione's voice was pleading "He can tell that we don't really know what he's going through, that we don't understand!"

"Well we don't! I'm sorry, I just don't! What more can we do?" Ron hated the way a part of him was telling him that he would regret not patching things up with Harry. But he just felt so _angry_!

"We can be there for him Ron. Some friends we are if we're not there for him when he's going through a horrible time. If we don't talk to him soon, he'll be lost to us forever."

Ron stared at Hermione, battling with his feelings. How many times had he not been there for Harry, or misjudged his friend? Harry had now done it to Ron for the first time, was he going to let their friendship go because of it?

"Come on Ron." he looked up and met her pretty brown eyes and helplessly nodded.

"Alright."

_Harry dreamed of red. There was red, in glistening pools on the floor._

_He could hear laughter, dimly, but he didn__'__t want to look away from the red. It was a deep colour, and it was beautiful in a violent way._

_Violent?_

Harry shifted in his sleep, a frown appearing on his face.

_The laughter came again, and this time Harry looked up. _

"_What is this?__"__ he said, his voice high and cruel._

_The scene ahead came into focus as Harry moved closer. His eyes were drawn to the flash of white blond hair as a figure stumbled against another figure._

_Draco Malfoy was being pulled around by the scruff of his neck by Bellatrix Lestrange._

"_My lord!__"__ she simpered __"__I am ashamed of Draco, he has failed his task. We were having a little fun with him before I punish him properly.__"__ she cackled, then shoved roughly at Draco__'__s shoulder._

_Draco fell onto his knee, looking anywhere but at Harry._

"_My lord I have not failed, I have captured his interest - I__'__m speaking to Potter tomorrow-__"_

"_Draco will tell Potter he has no interest in following you, my lord - which of course is not the truth-__"_

"_Silence Bella.__"__ Harry motioned at her, and she scuttled backwards into the shadows. __"__Tell me, Draco.__"_

"_I__'__m going to tell him lies to make him like me. Potter likes to rescue people, he will want to rescue me.__"__ The white face was determined, from what Harry could see of it. The ridiculous boy was staring at the ground as he spoke._

"_Tell me what lies, Draco? Come over here.__"_

_Harry smiled in satisfaction when he saw the boy was shaking in fear as he crawled forward, into one of the red pools. What a coward. Nothing like how Lucius had been at his age. The boy looked repulsed that he was crawling in blood._

"_I was -was going to tell him, my lord, that I am frightened of becoming your servant, and that it is happening soon. It__'__ll make him think that __'__saving me__'__ is more urgent. I__'__ll have him wrapped around my finger in time-__"_

"_But you aren__'__t frightened, are you Draco?__"__ Harry sunk onto his haunches beside Draco, and lifted a spidery white hand to his chin._

"_No my lord.__"__ Draco stared determinedly at the ground, but Harry pulled his face up, and yet Draco stared to the side._

_Harry dug his nails into Draco__'__s face where he gripped him. The boy__'__s face was blank, and remained so even when Harry__'__s thumb nail burst open his lower lip._

_Harry liked the way the blood looked as it flowed over white skin. He let go._

"_I hope you succeed Draco. But all is not lost if you do not.__"_

_The Malfoy boy, inferior replication of the once much worthier Lucius, looked surprised. Stupid boy._

"_I have promised Macnair a prize for his recent endeavours, dear Draco - you know what Macnair likes, don__'__t you?__"_

_Harry watched with satisfaction as the boy grew still very suddenly._

"_Yes, I think you do. You will make an excellent prize. Don__'__t you agree?__"_

_For a moment Malfoy didn__'__t move. Then -__"__Yes my lord.__"_

"_Good. I expected more progress than this.__"__ Harry said silkily, assuming a disappointed expression. He dragged his had through the blood on the floor before resting it on Dracos head. __"__Bella, please continue.__"_

Harry scanned the Slytherin table several times.

There was no doubt about it.

Malfoy wasn't there.

_A/N: So what do you think so far? I can__'__t help hoping you haven__'__t read New Alliances if you__'__re reading this, as you might find it quite dull. There__'__s a twist, by the way, with what Malfoy is asking Harry for, so don__'__t be put off my thinking it__'__s the same old __'__oh protect me Harry, I don__'__t want to be a Death Eater!__'__ routine__…__even if that is what it sounds like so far. The thing with this fic, is that I plan to extend it long past what I wrote for New Alliances 1, and this story will be very different, once it gets past that._

9


	9. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I don't own HP_

For a moment Harry couldn't move. Malfoy was dead, he knew it.

He glanced sideways at Ron, who sat several seats down from him. Ron had not woken him when he had started screaming last night. Ron always did, but because they weren't speaking, he hadn't asked what Harry had seen, and truthfully Harry didn't want to tell him. He was just thankful Ron hadn't lit the candles, because his scar was still pretty obvious down the side of his face. He was just glad it was fading slowly.

He stared at his breakfast and felt sick. He had the images of his vision playing behind his eyes, and whenever he saw something red, he wanted to flinch. He couldn't stop thinking of the bloody handprint on the blond hair…

He got up and left the Gryffindor table, to search for Malfoy, just in case. He saw Draco in his mind, writhing and screaming and rolling in the blood, and he had to run to the toilet and be sick…

Harry was running towards Professor Snape's office - he had to tell someone, someone who could help Malfoy, when Hedwig swooped after him to land on his shoulder.

He took the letter tied to her leg with shaking hands and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the handwriting.

Later, Harry sat alone at a table in a hidden corner of the library. It felt odd, being here without Hermione.

He looked at his watch, noting that he was still early, and sighed.

He was beginning to miss having friends. He wished he hadn't been so-

"Harry."

Harry jumped rather stupidly and twisted around in his seat to see Albus Dumbledore peering over a short bookshelf at him.

"Sir-" he stammered, then stopped. He had purposefully been ignoring owls from the headmaster. There was really nothing he could say to make this easier. Nevertheless, he tried.

"About your owls sir -"

"Yes Harry, I must admit I'm rather disappointed that you don't seem to want to have your extra classes with me as we discussed last year." The old man rounded the bookshelf and took a seat opposite Harry, his eyes twinkling.

"Extra … classes?" Harry said faintly. Dumbledore's first owl hadn't been about Snape, it had been asking him to go to the headmasters office because he hadn't turned up to his appointment. He had been ignoring the owls for nothing! Snape hadn't even gone to Dumbledore…

"That's right." The professor said jovially "I believe I owled you with a proposed appointment time a while ago. I take it you still want to attend then?"

"Um - yes - sir, I'm sorry, I completely forgot-" Harry could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. Then he remembered how angry he had been with the headmaster recently, and opened his mouth. However the headmaster interrupted before he could even think of what to say.

"Jolly good then!" The professor got to his feet "Shall we say this Wednesday instead then?"

"Yes, that's fine - Sir, -?" Harry began, but Dumbledore held up a hand

"Not at all, not at all. Memory slips happen to the best of us." Harry stared

"Oh Harry-" Dumbledore turned

"Sir?"

"I need to speak with you about your Uncle on Wednesday too."

"My Uncle ?"

"It's a serious matter. I need to know what happened, Harry. I know you may be worried about my reaction, but you must know that you can tell me anything Harry," the headmaster looked at him, concern etched into the lines of his face "anything at all."

"Yes sir." Harry said, wincing at the way his voice trembled. He had no intention of saying a word about what had happened that night.

"I also meant to remind you - I have limited your detentions with Professor Snape to no more than an hour a day and only during this month, but if you don't begin attending them and return to your defence classes I will be forced to agree that they need to be extended." his eyes twinkled maddeningly and it was all Harry could do to avert his gaze downwards, nod, and try not to glare at the headmaster. How dare he act like everything was back to normal with them.

_Maybe_, Harry thought, _it would be better if I thought through what I want to say to him. He__'__ll take me more seriously if I don__'__t throw a temper tantrum and break all his stuff again._

"Harry?"

He looked up and the old professor's eyes were stern "I must ask that you learn to control your temper. It's unacceptable that it has gotten to this point - where you are skipping the one class that is more important for you than any other."

"Yes sir." Harry forced out through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry." He stared down at his desk in silence for several moments, waiting for the headmaster to speak again.

"My god Potter, do you have any backbone at all?"

Harry looked up in shock to see Malfoy settling into the seat in front of him.

"Malfoy!" he hissed, searching Draco's face for signs of that awful cut on his lip, but his skin was smooth.

"Don't wet yourself, he's gone!" the other boy drew his lips into his usual smirk "Honestly though Potter, you're all talk and no action - did you even _think _to mention what Professor Snape said about your father?"

"Shut it Malfoy." Harry snapped, more angry because he knew he was right. Maybe the vision had only been only a dream?

"Whatever." Malfoy shrugged his shoulders elegantly "So here we are - are you ready to listen to me?"

"Yes." he waited expectantly. What Draco said next would either confirm or deny Harry's vision.

For a moment Draco stared at him, and Harry noticed he was wringing his hands almost imperceptivity as he held them in his lap.

"I need you to help someone I care about."

Harry froze. He'd been expecting something unlikely to come out of Malfoy's mouth, the sort of thing Malfoy thought that would make Harry want to protect him. Even something that proved, once and for all, that the vision he had had last night was real. But what was this about?

"Who? I thought you wanted me to protect _you_?"

Malfoy cast a furtive glance to either side, before biting his lip and leaning forward.

"I never said that. I said I didn't want to be a Death Eater Potter. But... I do need your protection. What I'm involved in…this person needs me, I can't get hurt. I need out, but until you can help me with that, if you can, I need help with - with him."

After a moment of trying to think of how to reply, Harry stared harder at Malfoy. This was nothing like what Malfoy had told Voldemort in the vision. What did this mean? Perhaps it _was_ just a dream…no. And on the off chance that it had been, could he afford to just forget about it? _Could _it have been real? He could see no sign of the tiredness or illness he had seen in Draco a few days ago. Nor could he see any signs of torture. If Voldemort really had tore his skin with his fingernails, he must have healed it afterwards.

"Why," Harry said slowly "why are you telling me this? Why not Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore!" Malfoy curled his lip "Potter, I don't mean to sour our deal before I even propose it, but that old moron _uses _people, and I _won't_ be used. I can't afford to be. This … person needs me."

"Are you going to tell me who this person is?" Harry asked, very warily. He had no idea what involved 'protecting' someone…what if it was another runaway Death Eater? He imagined Lucius Malfoy hiding under Harry's bed in Gryffindor, where Harry would pass him scraps from dinner for him to survive on.

Draco hesitated. "It's…it's probably better that I show him to you. Then you'll understand."

"How do I know this isn't a trap?" Harry said immediately, tensing up. This sounded exactly like the kind of trick that got Sirius killed.

"Harry!"

Hand jerking to his pocket out of reflex, Harry's eyes flew over Malfoy's shoulder to where Hermione stood, staring confusedly at his 'study partner' as he stepped away from Draco. Behind her, Ron looked mutinous.

"Hermione." Harry replied carefully. At least she didn't look angry with him, he supposed.

"We were wondering if we could talk." she said timidly, her eyes studiously focussed on Harry alone, while Ron glared unrelentingly at Malfoy.

Harry considered, eyes shifting between his friends, whom he very badly wanted to make up with, and Malfoy, who had a tantalising secret.

"Malfoy, could you give us a minute?" he said after a second.

Draco Malfoy stared at Harry for a moment, as if measuring his worth, then cast his eyes down.

"Room of Requirement, same time tomorrow." he muttered, quiet enough so that only Harry could hear, then he got to his feet and, scowling at Ron and Hermione, stalked off in the direction of the exit.

"So…" Harry said uncertainly as Hermione and Ron stood awkwardly before him, Ron's scowl not entirely erased as his eyes flickered from Malfoy's retreating back to Harry.

"Can we sit down?" Hermione asked, trying to mask her confusion at the Slytherin's presence, and Harry nodded. There was an awkward silence as everyone settled down and exchanged awkward glances.

"Harry we wanted to apologise." Hermione started, then stopped as Ron made an odd noise in his throat. "That is," she corrected, going red and staring at her hands in her lap "we don't think you've treated us fairly, and some of the things you said to us weren't right. I even think you might have interpreted some things wrongly on purpose because you've been angry at us for a while."

Harry flinched as he realised the truth in her words.

"But our apology still stands." she continued "We've been insensitive and while we don't really understand what you're going through, we'd like to still be there for you and for you to help us understand so that we can be friends again."

She looked over at Ron and coughed pointedly and he shuffled forward in his seat and reluctantly met Harry's eyes.

"I don't understand why you're being like this." he said bluntly "I don't like it and I don't understand it and I'm still angry at what you said to us. But I know if I wait until I'm not angry to talk to you it might be too late. So I'm not sorry yet, but soon I might be, and I don't want to lose our friendship."

"Guys…" Harry stared at his two best friends, feeling horribly guilty and unhappy as he realised how confused and worried his friends were for him. He felt as if he wanted to apologise, but he was still angry at them and didn't know if he wanted to be near them anyway. But how was he supposed to tell them he was sorry, and then tell them to keep away?

"I'm sorry too." he said finally. "I don't know how to explain why I've been acting like this, not just because I don't think that you would understand, but also because I don't know myself really. It just feels like … a lot of people expect me to be 'The Boy Who Lived' and all that rubbish. I'm sick of it, you two haven't had you life ruled by other people the way I do."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked "I mean it sucks that you have to go to the muggles in the summer, but it's the safest-"

"_That__'__s_ what I mean Ron!" he smacked his hand on the table "I grew up being treated like how the Malfoy treated Dobby, sleeping in a cupboard and all! How could Dumbledore think that was what was best for me? Yes I'm alive at the end of each summer, but to live like that…" he sighed "sometimes it doesn't feel worth it."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione's eyes were glistening with unshed tears and sliding into the seat beside him. Unconsciously, Harry let out a long, low breath he had been holding. If Hermione had fallen for it, the worst was over. He'd thought, for a moment, that she would see through him immediately, and demand to know what had _really _happened during the summer.

"This year is the first time I've made the effort to buy my own things so I don't have to wear Dudley's old rags." Harry said "I wanted to look good for once. I've changed, yeah but that's just part of life, and it's like you guys don't want to be there for me because I've changed. Still, I'm sorry about how I've been acting. It's just hard, figuring everything out."

"Harry, we'll be there for you if you'd just give us the chance." Hermione said earnestly and Ron nodded reluctantly.

"I'm sick of being told how to live my life, and its worse because I've just come back after dealing with my aunt and uncle. I just …" he paused, voicing thoughts which he hadn't allowed himself to ponder, but which had been churning in the back of his mind anyway "My parents wouldn't have wanted me to go to live with Aunt Petunia, I mean she obviously hated my mum. I've been wondering if it wasn't all Dumbledore's idea."

"Well if it was, he only meant for you to be safer." Hermione frowned

"No, I mean…" Harry thought for a moment "Petunia _really _hates magic. My mum must have known that, I just can't see her letting Dumbledore send me to live with her and if he's not related to me, and he's not my guardian, then what right did he have to send me to the Dursleys?" he finished quietly.

"Well it would have been in your parent's will, right? Dumbledore was your parent's secret keeper and he sent Hagrid to take you to the Dursleys because he knew where you were and got to you the fastest. If he didn't I'm sure someone from the ministry would have come." Ron said, a puzzled expression on his freckled face.

"Or Death Eaters. It was lucky he got there first!" Hermione added

"But I've already said, why would my mum send me to be with her sister who hates magic? Why not someone who she trusted to take care of me? I mean Sirius was in Azkaban, but the second choice would have been Lupin, right? Or some friend of mum's I suppose…"

Hermione shook her head dismissively "The ministry would never send Harry Potter to live with a werewolf! I know you don't like to be treated differently, but the ministry would have bent laws so that you could be with anyone other than him. They would have ruled that you be sent to the next person on the list -"

"If my mum cared about me at all then the Dursleys wouldn't even be on that list. I would have gone to the next person-"

"Dumbledore wouldn't have gone against your parent's will Harry. People don't normally have long list of substitute guardians, they wouldn't expect them _all _to be unsuitable. The next one would probably have been Wormtail in any case and to be honest you were probably better off with your relatives than him. In a case where there's no suitable designated guardians, it's law that you should be sent to your closest relative"

Harry stared back at Hermione glumly. In the face of cool logic, his argument had dissipated.

"Mate, if it really bothers you, why don't you just ask Dumbledore to see the will?" Ron said

"Why should Dumbledore have it!" Harry said frustrated "He's my headmaster, nothing else! It's not like he has everyone else's dead relatives' wills!"

"Ron's not saying he does Harry, calm down." Hermione placed a cool hand on his arm

"Sorry, it's just he does act like a sort of guardian to you, whether he's supposed to or not." Ron shrugged "You expect him to have all the answers when it comes to your past, don't you? But anyway, I suppose you could just go to Gringotts, they usually have copies of public records so that they know what to do with inheritances."

"Maybe I will." Harry said thoughtfully. It would most likely be a lot of legal mumbo jumbo, but he had barely anything left of his parents and it couldn't hurt to look it over.

"Are you okay Harry?" Hermione asked, taking his hand and squeezing it "I'm glad you've told us what's been bothering you."

"Yeah I'm fine." Harry gave her a smile that probably looked more like a grimace "It's just it worries me how little I know about things, but Dumbledore knows it all and has been managing it all behind my back."

"What?" Hermione looked sceptical.

"Well…not exactly I suppose." he admitted "It just that the fact that until this summer I didn't even know how much money was in my vault. It just worries me that Dumbledore did even though he has no legal claim over me, but he never sat down with me to talk about managing my own finances. It makes me wonder if he ever was going to at all, and why he had access to my vaults in the first place."

"How do you know Dumbledore had access to your vaults?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Well he gave Hagrid my key to buy my school supplies in first year, and he's had it ever since. He gives it to Ron's mum every year so that I can get my school stuff while I'm staying at the Burrow - apart from third year though, he had Fudge pass it on to me. I gave it back to Mrs Weasley after that though. I never really questioned why." Harry admitted, feeling stupid.

"Well, I'm sure he had a good reason for keeping it." Hermione said uncertainly "You could always ask him, if reading your parents' will doesn't clear it up."

"Mate the other option was probably that he gave it to the muggles, you wouldn't have wanted that, would you?"

"No way." Harry shuddered "He was probably keeping it unofficially then, but if giving it to the Dursleys was the only other option then I don't blame him. Well I'll owl Gringotts and see what they say. Anyway, it's getting late. Do you want to go back to the common room?" he said hopefully.

"Come on then!" Hermione rolled her eyes with a knowing smile.


	10. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I don__'__t own the boy who lived._

"But can't we just-" Ron whispered as he and Hermione trudged down the stairs. They hadn't had a chance to confer together on the 'Harry situation' since the previous night.

"_Don't _push it, Ron!"

"But why was he talking to that slimy little ferret!" Ron exploded, his whispers now no longer even resembling discreetness. Up ahead, frowning into space in deep thought, Harry kept walking without seeming to notice.

Hermione closed her eyes in frustration and hugging her books closer to her chest, began trying to count to ten. They'd been having the same whispered conversation that lead nowhere for the last five minutes.

"Don't tell me you don't want to kn – OW! Hermione!" Ron leapt back, rubbing his ribs where a bruise the size of Hermione's sharp elbow would be forming.

Hermione was now turning on Ron, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"Of course I want to know! Don't you think it bothers me that he was – he was - just sitting there with Malfoy, as if it was normal, and he didn't say a word afterwards!" Hermione huffed. "Ron, I want to know, but if we push Harry…I don't think things will end well. Besides, this is probably nothing."

Ron grumbled in a dissatisfied manner. "If I see it happen again, I'm asking about it. They can't be in the same room without attacking each other for how many years?"

"And now clandestine meetings in the library." Hermione finished, then backtracked, "but this is really petty. It probably wasn't important, so let's drop it." Her tone implied the curiosity was burning at her too, but true to her word, she sped up to catch up with Harry, leaving Ron to grumble under his breath behind her so that he really had to drop it.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry hesitated, his knuckles raised, then closed his eyes and knocked. After several moments, the door swept open and Snape was soon glaring down at him, so much fury in his black eyes that he had to force himself not to step back. Clearly Snape had not forgiven him yet.

"And to what, Potter," Snape sneered "Do I owe the pleasure for this visit?"

"I'm here for detention sir." he replied, and his heart sank automatically as Snape gave a thin smile, the one that usually heralded bad news.

"At long last. How _kind_ of you to turn up. And yet... why are you reporting to me when I organised for your detention to be with Mr Filch.?"

"Sorry?" Harry said blankly, searching his memory for this bit of information.

"Forty points from Gryffindor Mr Potter," Snape drew himself up and sneered down at him "for failing to report to me earlier. If you had done so, you would know this information!"

"Sir!" Harry protested "I didn't know-"

"Of course you didn't, you miserable fool, because you didn't bother to find out!" Snape spat "Ten points for keeping Mr Filch waiting! Now get out of my sight!" he spat and slammed the door, leaving Harry's ears ringing.

_"__I should like to bite that man.__"_Serissa told him earnestly.

When Harry finally made it back up to the ground floor he had to pause outside Filch's office door to collapse against the wall, panting and wheezing. He was still half way through knocking when Filch wrenched the door open and hobbled towards him, his yellow teeth bared and clutching Mrs Norris.

"Thought you'd just turn up when it pleased you, did you filthy little beast!" Filch ranted "Up to the fourth floor! You'll be cleaning - and you won't be using your wand!"

Harry walked miserably behind the caretaker, resisting the urge to throw his wand at Mrs Norris who blinked smugly at him over Filch's shoulder.

When they reached the fourth floor, he was handed a mop and pointed towards a large muddy patch of reeds, mud and mosquitoes. As set to work, Harry composed a complaint letter to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in his head.

The Gryffindor common room fire crackled merrily, its dancing flames taunting Harry's grim mood. The portable swamp had proved near impossible to mop up and he'd had to wrench the reeds out by the roots and throw them out the nearest window. As a result, his hands were covered in cuts and he smelled strongly of rotting plant life, despite having taken a shower in order to get rid of the mud.

Hermione relaxed in an armchair, knitting needles clicking at full speed, with yet another small, hideous scarf - or was it a hat - edging into existence, one mauve-hued row at a time. He couldn't help smiling a little as he watched her from where he stood at the foot of the stairs to the dormitory. He had been pleasantly surprised at how calmly she had taken his doubts about Dumbledore. It was true she hadn't looked convinced, but at least she seemed open to the possibilities.

Ron was busy humming and hawing over a Charms essay, hoping to catch Hermione's attention so that she would help him. Harry stifled a snort before throwing the invisibility cloak over his shoulders and making his way over to the portrait hole silently. Leaving the common room, he didn't see Hermione and Ron watching as the portrait swung open and shut on its own.

Hermione threw down her knitting needles. "I thought we were getting through to him!" she wailed, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"He's keeping secrets from us already. This had better not be about Malfoy." Ron said darkly

"I just-" Hermione closed her eyes and sighed "maybe we _are_ overcrowding him."

"You think it's okay that he's hiding things like this from us?" Ron's ears were turning red "You do realise, he's meeting up with Malfoy?"

"Stop going on about Malfoy, we don't _know_ that-"

"Who else? We saw him talking to him in the library. Hermione, I don't know what he's getting Harry into, but it can't be good if Harry thinks he can't even trust us."

"Getting Harry into what, Ron?" Hermione said "All we know is that they're sneaking off together. Harry probably has his reasons. He'll come through in the end."

"Whatever." Ron muttered, staring into the fire.

…ooo000ooo…

"Malfoy?" Harry slipped into the Room, pulling his cloak off and letting the door click shut behind him. He looked around at the Room in confusion as Draco stood up and approached him.

The Room of Requirement looked like a bedroom. The walls were a pale cream, the carpets a silvery blue colour. A single bed sat in the far corner, and in front of the group of comfy looking sofas where Malfoy had been sitting, was a warm, crackling fire.

"You came." Malfoy said, stopping in front of him.

"Yeah." Harry said shortly, continuing to look around curiously. "Why is the room like this?"

"I said I was going to show you the person you're going to be protecting."

"Going to be?" Harry said coldly, angry at the assumption "I never agreed to anything."

Draco looked pained. "Potter…"

"Dwaco?"

Harry and Malfoy both spun around in the direction of the voice; it had come from near the fireplace.

Harry's eyes widened.

"What the hell Malfoy?"

A little boy was peering at him fearfully from over the top of the couch. The mop of platinum hair was enough to tell Harry this was a Malfoy child. At Harry's proclamation, the boy's face crumpled, and he began to cry, sniffling quietly.

"Rigel, come here, it's alright."

Harry's mouth fell open as he watched Malfoy hurry over to pull the child into his arms. The little boy continued his sniffling, but huddled into Malfoy, large, watery brown eyes searching the room until landing on Harry and staying fixed there, his little chubby arms just reaching around Draco's neck.

Malfoy turned, and before the boy could twist around in his arms, he shot Harry a glare of utmost loathing.

"Rigel, this is Harry. He's my friend. He's come to play." Draco shot Harry a stone cold glance that told him that he would play the part or else. Rigel, still firmly attached to Draco, turned is watery eyes on Harry.

"Hello Regal." Harry said, as brightly as he could. The child hid his face, and Harry sighed. He knew nothing about children.

"Mal-" Harry began uncertainly

"_Harry_," Malfoy said pointedly "Rigel is my little brother. He's three."

"Oh." Harry said.

"Rigel," Draco said after a short pause. "look over there."

Harry also turned towards where Draco was gesturing. A small wooden train set had appeared. Rigel once again made no sound, but wriggled in Malfoy's arms for all he was worth, and Draco let him slip to the floor, wincing as the child caught his knee with his little shoe.

As soon as the child was preoccupied, Malfoy rounded on Harry, but before he could speak, Harry was somehow already asking the question that had popped into his head.

"He's called _Regal_?" Only a Malfoy would name their child something so pretentious.

"Rigel, Potter, as in the constellation. It's a tradition from my mother's family." Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "But never mind that, you need to help us. Sit down."

"I –" Harry turned slightly, staring at the little boy bashing trains together behind them noisily, feeling uneasy, "Malfoy, I don't know how I can help. _Why_ does he need protecting?"

Draco glanced over at his brother, then gestured towards the sofa.

"I just need help." he said as they sat down on chairs adjacent to each other. "Rigel isn't safe. I need someone else to help me watch him. I keep coming back here, and people have been noticing. I never wanted to tell you. I was going to ask for help for myself, and then once I was safe, Rigel would be too, but if one person finds out I've got him, it's over."

"But why isn't he safe?" Harry asked, confused "What about your parents?"

"My parents _are_ the danger!" Draco closed his eyes, weariness evident on his face before he dropped his face into his hands. Harry felt very uncomfortable, at this openness.

"What - what do you mean?"

Malfoy's shoulders tensed before he said "Rigel's a squib."

There was a prolonged silence. Harry couldn't think of how to reply. Questions such as 'Did your parents try to kill him' were what immediately came to mind, but in the end he settled for "What happened?"

Malfoy sat up, and Harry was shocked to see his eyes were slightly red. For a moment it wasn't hard to realise the scale of the tradgedy - or at least what it must seem like to a Malfoy, brought up to hate those without magic.

"You probably don't know anything about how pureblood children - in some families - are raised." Draco started quietly. Without checking to see Harry's reply, he continued. "Children are kept secret until they show their first signs of magic. In case they _are _a - squib."

"I thought magic only showed itself around the age of seven?" Harry said warily.

Malfoy snorted. "Yes. Well, that's true. If you don't know what you're looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Detectors can be set up, to see if magic has been cast in a room. Babies are constantly doing magic. Little things, like summoning toys or bottles. They can't do much, for instance they can only summon a toy if it's a few inches away. Their magical core isn't developed enough for more powerful magic, and it's easy to miss, but that's why the detectors are there. A few months ago, towards the middle of the summer, Rigel still hadn't shown any magic; the detectors hadn't gone off in his nursery once since he was born. Most families would wait until the child is seven years old; eight or nine at a push. _Most_ families don't even purposefully monitor the magic of their child, because blood magic has to be used if the detectors are really reliable, and it's considered dark magic to use blood, usually."

"Where exactly do I come in though?" Harry said

"If I die," Malfoy said, as if it were likely to occur any day "no one will know that Rigel is here. No one. He'll be alone. I have one of the Hogwarts house elves watch him while I'm in class, but they it can hardly bring up a child until he turns seventeen…besides that, when he gets to the age when he can give orders properly or trick the elf into letting him out, what would happen? In any case, he can't stay here all the time. I need you to promise me that if I disappear, you'll look after Rigel."

Harry merely stared. "I know _nothing_ about looking after children."

Draco straightened up furiously, glaring at Harry.

"Potter, _I _know nothing about looking after children! Do you think this is easy? " he spat "I had to interview half the kitchens before I found a trustworthy house elf, and I still had to teach her how to change a nappy. Do I look like I know how to change a nappy?" there was a manic note to Draco's tone now, and Harry shrunk away slightly as a mad light entered his eyes.

"He won't eat his vegetables, he doesn't like me combing his hair, he won't wear trousers unless I spend half an hour playing games until he's too tired to stop me from wrestling them on! Do you think this is easy? Do you think this is _fun_? Do you think," he stopped to take a sharp breath "that I can get any school work done in my spare time? That I can do rune calculations when he's throwing carrots at me instead of eating them?"

"Malfoy-"

"Call me Draco in front of him, or I so swear I'll-"

"Calm _down_!" Harry hissed.

This was insane, Harry realized as he watched Malfoy all but deflate before him and sink back into his position with his head in his hands. Malfoy had come to the end of his wits, trying to take care of his brother at school. He had come to Harry of all people, but at least he had the sense to propose something reasonable sounding. However the reality was clear before him. Draco needed far more than he was asking for.

He didn't need someone to take over care of Rigel if he died. He needed someone to help him now. Harry would never have agreed to the silent plea Draco was making. Draco couldn't quite bring himself to ask Harry to do this, but…

"You can't carry on like this." Harry said finally. "It's a wonder you don't break down in public."

"I _won't_! And besides, I don't have a choice, I'll carry on as long as I need to, to protect him." Draco rubbed his eyes vigorously, sitting up straight again.

"Look, once I'm safe, once I get the Dark Lord off my back, you need have nothing to do with either of us. But if there's the slightest chance that one day it'll be you taking care of him, I need Rigel to trust you just as much as he trusts me."

"Malfoy…" Harry shook his head "No offence, but … I really don't know you that well. I mean…I can see why you'd think I could help with the Death Eater thing, but – you want to become like _family_ to your brother?!"

Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. "Look. I could find someone else to help Rigel. But I don't trust anyone. The ones who wouldn't turn him over, would bring him up like my parents brought me up. And it's not something I ever wanted for my own kids, and I'd hoped to be there for Rigel to shield him from the worst of it."

"Your parents weren't kind to you." Harry deduced. And yet … it went against everything he knew about the spoiled, bratty Draco Malfoy.

"That's not it." Draco protested "They were just…distant. I was practically raised by house elves, and I was a litter terror sometimes because I wanted my parents, not them, so the elves grew to hate me. They never mistreated me, but I went for years with barely any contact from my parents, and I knew the house elves didn't like me. Once I got older though, my parents took me in hand, and no, they weren't…_kind_. But that's a standard pureblood upbringing. And I don't want that for Rigel."

"You must know someone who's not pureblood who-"

"I don't talk to people like that! Muggle-lovers and half-bloods – my family has never had anything to do with that sort! And I can hardly start now, can I? Anyway, who'd want to commit themselves to this? They might agree now, and then turn him over to the headmaster, or Pomfrey if I die! At least you're too…Gryffindor to let yourself do that."

"The headmaster wouldn't let any harm come to him-"

"Don't fool yourself, Potter. The headmaster only cares about _you_, and only because you serve a purpose. Trust me, there's plenty of orphaned children who've passed through Hogwarts, hell even asked for _help_, just to be ignored by him."

An image of Tom Riddle flickered in Harry's head, and he knew he'd do it.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Harry glance over a Rigel, who was now attempting to stand on the little wooden train and push it at the same time.

"I'll do what you want," Harry agreed and Draco's shoulders slumped in relief, "I'll look after him if anything happens to you. But … you obviously need help with the rest of this too."

Draco looked at him sharply. "Maybe I do need help. But why would you volunteer?"

"He's just a kid. You're obviously struggling, and a three year old needs more than a stressed out school kid to take care of him. I mean, you were drunk up to your eyeballs at that Slytherin party – how long ago?"

"That was-" Draco interrupted, looking angry

"I get that you probably just wanted to get away from your responsibilities for a bit," Harry didn't let him finish "but things _had _to be bad – it's not that far into term and you're already hitting the drink? And," Harry continued suspiciously "where was Rigel when you held that party in here?"

"I was keeping him in a room in the dungeons." Draco said through gritted teeth. "The house elf was watching him – he was sleeping anyway! I just needed a night off."

"So you dumped him in the dungeons –" Harry began in disgust

"I only started keeping him here after that night!" Draco hissed angrily "It's too far from where I sleep, up here. But at least this room can be undetectable if I need it to. I thought he was safe, warded up in that room only half a minute from my dormitory…but he didn't like sleeping alone, even though he used to at home. Most nights, I had to sleep in there with him, and people were beginning to get suspicious. I moved him up here because I was worried someone would follow me there. At least if they follow me here, I know they'll never get in. My wards were good, but as good as the ones in here."

"Well," Harry sighed, "It'll be easier for me to visit him on the seventh floor that in the dungeons. But it wouldn't be much." he said quickly, unwilling to commit himself. "I don't know anything about kids, remember? But I could watch him while you do your homework in here, if you like. As long as you don't leave me alone with him." Harry added hurriedly as a slow smile slid onto Malfoy's pale face "And – only once or twice a week."


End file.
